Hashknife made a quick examination, nodding slowly.
“I’m sorry, Rance,” he said. “He can’t blame anybody.”
“Let me set down,” said Rance wearily. “Yuh see, they burned my feet tryin’ to make me tell where the money was. But I didn’t tell.”
“Did Angel do that to yuh, Rance?”
“Not Angel—Langley. Angel wasn’t in on it.”
“The hell he wasn’t!” snorted Fohl. “He was the one that framed it all, Rance.”
“Yore own son,” said Hashknife.
Rance looked curiously at Hashknife.
“He—he framed it all? He thought I robbed that train? My God, I thought he done it.”
“You thought he knocked you down and robbed you the night of the robbery, didn’t yuh, Rance?” asked Hashknife.