“That’s true. I tell yuh, Hartley, there’s a lot of men in this county that would probably take a chance on that much money.”
“Yuh don’t need to confine yourself to this county.”
“I suppose not. I’m no detective. I believe one third of what I hear, and a half of all I see. I’m no closer to findin’ out who robbed that train than I was the night it happened.”
“Some cowboy may start wearin’ diamonds,” grinned Hashknife. “They won’t be easy to dispose of in this country.”
“Whoever got ’em can afford to wait for a chance to turn ’em into money—and they might wait a long time.”
Hashknife liked Slim Caldwell. He seemed to have a lot of common sense. But Hashknife was more interested in old Rance McCoy. They had told Hashknife about Chuckwalla, and he sounded rather interesting. While the robbery of the express safe held certain elements of mystery, Hashknife was not greatly interested in it—not yet.
It rather amused him to think that the sheriff, prosecuting attorney, and the Wells Fargo representative believed that old Rance McCoy robbed the train, but because of the great amount of money involved, they hesitated to charge him with the crime.
He wondered why Kid Glover traded horses with him. It looked as though the Kid, traveling fast, crippled his horse and was obliged to make a quick trade. But why had the Kid been traveling fast, he wondered? And why did Butch Reimer deny any knowledge of that bay horse when Chuck Ring and Scotty McKay had been able to identify it instantly? Hashknife decided that the thing to do was to find out something about Kid Glover.
CHAPTER XIV—RANCE’S CONFESSION
“Of all the exasperatin’ old badgers I ever did see, you’re the worst, Rance.”