“He was figuring to do me up. I don’t say it was exactly on the square, but I was sore at him clear through. I wanted to get him into trouble. I had to do something to keep his mind busy till I could turn round and think of a way out.”
Bucky reflected, looking at the long ash on his cigar. “The man that made the raid of the W. & S. shaped up like Luck, you say?”
“In a general way.”
The ranger brushed the ash from the end of the cigar into the tray. Then he looked quietly at Fendrick. “Who was the man, Cass?”
“I thought I told you——”
“You did. But you lied. It was a moonlight night. And there’s an arc light at that corner. By your own story, the fellow took his mask off as he swung to his horse. You saw his face just as distinctly as I see yours now.”
“No, I reckon not,” Fendrick grinned.
“Meaning you won’t tell?”
“That’s not how I put it, Bucky. You’re the one that says I recognized him. Come to think of it, I’m not sure the fellow didn’t wear his mask till he was out of sight.”
“I am.”