Phyllis rose and followed the man back to the store. When she had gone, Jim stepped to the door and shut it. Returning, he sat down beside the bed.
"Larry, I didn't tell all I know. That hat in Spiker's room had the initials P.S. written on the band. What's more, I knew the hat by a big coffee stain splashed on the crown. It happens I made that stain myself on the round-up onct when we were wrastling and I knocked the coffeepot over."
Keller looked at his friend gravely. "It was Phil Sanderson's hat?"
Yeager nodded assent. "He must have loaned his old hat to Spiker for the holdup."
"You didn't turn the hat over to the sheriff?"
"Not so as you could notice it. I shoved it in my jeans and burnt it over my camp fire next day."
"This mixes things up a heap. If Phil is in this thing—and it sure looks that way—it ties our hands. I'd like to have a talk with Spiker before we do anything."
"What's the matter with having a talk with Phil? Why not shove this thing right home to him?"
The nester shook his head. "Let's wait a while. We don't want to drive Healy away yet. If the kid's in it he would go right to Healy with the whole story."
Yeager swore softly. "It's all Brill's fault. He's been leading Phil into devilment for two years now."