CHAPTER VIII: REX USES HIS BRAINS
After due deliberation Rex Morgan decided that the blow on his head must have left him slightly hazy on things in general; so he gave up trying to puzzle out what had become of the gate. He did not speak to Nan about this. She sat on the porch steps with him, looking toward the 6X6, and he knew she was worrying over what had taken place at the corral.
‘You saw the sheriff find that gun, didn’t you?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘That was Peter Morgan’s gun, Rex; and I’m afraid the sheriff recognized it. If he hadn’t, I think he would have mentioned picking it up, and would have given it to us. They cost about thirty dollars apiece.’
‘But he doesn’t know Peter Morgan is dead.’
‘He will. And he’ll wonder how that gun got in our corral. Rex, we’ve got to forget it. No matter what happens, we must keep this a secret. They would hang my father, as sure as fate.’
‘Well, I’m not going to tell,’ declared Rex. ‘I’ve been rather weak in the stomach since then, but I’m all right now. I don’t want to go to jail, and I’d do anything in the world before I’d tell. But I wish we had picked up that gun.’
‘If wishes were horses, beggars might ride,’ quoted Nan seriously.
‘And be welcome to them,’ smiled Rex wryly. ‘I’d rather walk.’