"Fool mistake. You didn't have any evidence against her a-tall."
"But—" began the district attorney.
Billy cut him short. "No evidence a-tall. Not a smidgin. No. You were too previous, Arthur, with your duty and your oath of office. Damn your duty, damn your oath of office. I've got a sneaking idea, old settler, that you are cluttering up the face of the earth. Be reasonable now, don't you think so yourself?"
But this was more than the district attorney was willing to admit. "I'll tell you what I think," he grunted. "I think if Hazel Walton didn't kill Rafe Tuckleton then you did."
"About Miss Walton there ain't any ifs, nary an if. She didn't do it. There is a reasonable doubt that I did, several reasonable doubts, in fact. Anyway, Arthur, try keeping your suspicions to yourself to oblige me, will you? Lord knows one murder and a stage hold-up are enough crimes to be charged with at one time."
"You thought you were very clever," sneered the district attorney, "getting that girl to pack your supplies out from town for you. Didn't have nerve enough to do it yourself. Had to hide behind a woman's skirts and get her in trouble, didn't you?"
"You mean about the horse and cartridges and grub that Slike took from Walton's?"
"I mean about the horse and cartridges and grub that you took from Walton's. Slike had nothing to do with that. Slike didn't go to Walton's. He went north to the West Fork, where we lost his trail."
"You're sure of this?"
"Sure? Of course I'm sure. Didn't I trail him to the river myself. Didn't— Say, where'd you get your information?"