“Where is that dirty liar?” he demanded hoarsely. “By God, he killed Billy himself. He came back here to kill me, too. He’s a sneakin’ little crook. He raided the cache and tried to get away with it all, I tell yuh. We knowed he’d do it; so we made up a dummy bundle. That’s how he happened to cripple his horse, gettin’ away fast—and that’s why he traded horses with yuh.”
“I felt that for a long time, Butch. And he killed Corby, didn’t he?”
“Sure as hell, he did! He thought he could kill me and find the cache. None of the rest of my boys know anythin’ about it. Bring in that dirty little sidewinder and I’ll make him eat every word he said about me.”
“That was his hat we found on the bridge, Butch.”
“I knew it. I was scared you’d work somethin’ out of it.”
“It sure helped,” grinned Hashknife. “And another thing, Reimer. The night of that holdup, which one of yuh knocked old Rance McCoy down and robbed him?”
“DuMond,” said Butch readily. “He hated the old man. Billy saw a chance to get him right. He wanted to kill McCoy, and thought he did, but I reckon it was a glancin’ blow.”
“And was it DuMond’s idea to take McCoy’s horse down there where yuh held up the train and shoot it?”
“Yeah—his and Glover’s. Glover mentioned it, and the Kid carried it out. He shot the horse before we went to Curlew Springs.”
“Whose idea was it to skin out the brand?” asked Slim.