"Did Hazel say how long he stayed?"
"About an hour."
"An hour! Then Slike knew he wasn't being followed. He never went to the West Fork a-tall."
Guerilla nodded a grave head. "I never was sure he did, especially after Shotgun Shillman told me when he got back that the tracks they followed to the West Fork looked a damsight older than they had a right to, always supposin' they were made that afternoon. Oh, you can't blame Shotgun, Bill, or Riley either. The district attorney was in charge of the posse, and him and Felix and the rest of his friends said it was the wind a-blowing so hard made the tracks look old. And there was a tearin' breeze, worse luck."
"Do you know somethin', Guerilla? It wouldn't surprise me a whole lot to find out the district attorney his own self made that trail to the Wagonjack."
"It would surprise me if you found it out. You ain't catchin' him so easy. Not that feller."
"Leave it to me. And he provided Slike with the horse too. You'll see."
"I'm sure hoping I do. I'd like nothing better than to see Art Rale stretching the kinks out of a new rope."
"Stranger things have happened. I guess I'd better go see the district attorney."
Guerilla Melody chuckled as one does at a pleasantry.