“Whatsa matter, Peeler?”
“I’m tryin’ to think of one word, Buck.”
“What kind of a word?”
Peeler smiled softly.
“I think it is ‘convenient.’”
“Convenient? What for?”
“For the robbers, Buck. That he is locked in his cell.”
Buck stared at Peeler for a moment. Then—
“Yea-a-a-a, that might be true. But it’s nothin’ to us; so we will forget it, eh?”
“I forget,” smiled Peeler.