“What do yuh think about it, Len?” he asked.
“I dunno,” lied Len.
Slim had noted the expression of Len’s face when the messenger told about the leather cuffs.
When Joe Rich had left Pinnacle City he was wearing a blue and white striped shirt, black sombrero, overalls and a pair of black leather cuffs, on which were riveted a lot of small, silver stars. Joe had done the decorating himself, and Slim knew that no other cowboy in the Tumbling River country wore a cuff like Joe’s.
Len did not seem inclined to talk about it, so Slim went back to the depot, where old Doctor Curzon was bandaging up the messenger’s head. A drink of raw liquor had helped to make the messenger more sociable and willing to talk.
“You got a good look at his gun, didn’t yuh?” asked Slim.
“I felt it,” smiled the messenger, wincing slightly from Doctor Curzon’s ministrations.
“What did it look like?”
“Very large caliber—about six inches in diameter.” The man laughed at his description. “Weighed a ton. Seriously, I can’t describe it, but it seems to me that it had a white handle. Perhaps it was yellow, like bone. You know what I mean—not pearl. It was a Colt, I am sure.”
Slim sighed deeply.