Billy's eyes followed Shotgun's side glance at Jack Murray. "You needn't look at me thataway," snarled Jack. "I'm no snitch! I only wrote that letter to throw a scare into Rale. I'd never have sent it to the judge a-tall!"
"Maybe you're no snitch," Billy flung back, with deep disfavor, "even if it does look like it, but you were skunk enough to let an innocent girl be blamed for murder."
"That was different. She hadn't ought to horned in on what was none of her business. If she hadn't— Oh, hell, what's the use? Gimme a chew, somebody."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE LONG DAY CLOSES
"Well," observed Sam Prescott, "folks will be sending Bill to Congress next. Directly or indirectly, he sure has put a crimp in county politics."
"Yes," assented his daughter, "now that the grand jury have indicted Craft, Larder, Murray and Rale, there isn't anything left of the Crocker County ring but the hole."
"Maybe now Hazel will make it up with him."
"Maybe." With some indifference.