“Y’betcha,” agreed Easton, “and I’m him.”
Blue jerked his head toward the sleeping Lonesome——
“Did he have that letter, Spot?”
“Naw!”
“That puncher still got it?”
Spot looked very disconsolate, but did not answer.
“What was in it, do you reckon?”
“How’d I know?”
Blue gnawed off an enormous chew of tobacco and moved to a chair.
“’F he’s still got the letter I’ll git it for you tomorrow, Spot.”