“I kinda got off in my bearing, in the dark, and found myself too far south. Then that —— gray horse fell and busted a leg. I had to kill it, yuh see. Then I had all that-gold to carry. It wasn’t safe to cache it in the hills, because I didn’t know the country well enough.”
Haley smiled grimly.
“I seen the light from the ranch-house, and I was sure it was the Double Bar 8; so I packed the gold down here, lookin’ for a place to hide it. Back of the bunk-house I found a hole under the foundation. I scratched a match and looked it over. It wasn’t big enough for anythin’ but a small dog to get through; so I shoved that money under the bunk-house, and went back to the mine.”
“And then dynamited the bunk-house, eh?” queried the sheriff.
“Like ——, we did! That’s why we kidnaped the girl. We wanted to draw everybody away; so we could dig the —— money out of the ruins. But we wasn’t goin’ to hurt her. I was to keep her in the cañon until about noon, and then let her come home. Our idea was to get Hartley and Stevens away from here long enough to let us get the money.”
“And it’s still under all that adobe, eh?” smiled Hashknife.
“If Le Moyne and Porter didn’t get it out. I wish you’d get me to a doctor. I’m full of buckshot. That —— tenderfoot! We didn’t count him in a-tall.”
“I didn’t need to be counted,” croaked Jimmy. “But what I want to know is, who shot me, and who blew up the bunk-house?”
Hashknife stepped over and put a hand on Barnhardt’s shoulder. The Blue Wells attorney’s lips went white and he tried to draw away.
“You tell ’em about it,” advised Hashknife. “Just be a man and speak yore little piece, Barnhardt.”