‘He shot himself accidentally,’ declared Hashknife, and proceeded to describe just how it happened.
‘Well, for gosh sake!’ blurted Bert. ‘So that’s why we never found that gun and horse? Can yuh imagine that?’
‘It sounds reasonable,’ agreed Bowen. ‘Didja work all that out yourself, Hartley?’
‘With the aid of the buzzards.’
‘I know. By golly, I’m glad we never caught young Lane. We would have lynched him sure.’
‘Why don’tcha go ahead and clear the old man?’ asked Bert. ‘Yuh might prove he hammered himself over the head.’
‘Aw, he couldn’t ’a’ done it,’ protested Spike. ‘He couldn’t rope himself on a horse, Bert.’
‘Might ’a’ roped himself on first, and left one hand loose.’
‘You’re a bright pair,’ said Bowen disgustedly.
Dave Morgan came in, nodding pleasantly to Hashknife, but ignoring the three cowboys with him. He talked for a few minutes with Jack Fairweather, and they went together to the rear of the saloon, where they entered a private room.