A cloud moved away, like a curtain, and a full moon shed its light over the scene and into the window. The hour must have been late, for the moon was low. Whitey turned and looked at Injun, who was stolidly watching the riders disappear.
"Can you beat that?" Whitey demanded. "String Beans walked as well as any one. I'll bet he wasn't hurt at the mine at all. That he was just pretending."
"Uh," muttered Injun.
"Mebbe they've stolen something," continued Whitey.
"No, no come into the house, me hear 'em," said Injun. "In bunk house nothin' to steal."
Suddenly Whitey thought of the negro cook, the only other man on the place, and demanded, "Where's Slim?"
"Dunno," said Injun, and followed Whitey, who shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and ran hastily from the room.
The bunk house was dark, the men having put out their lanterns before they rode away. Whitey groped for matches and, finding one, lighted a lamp. Slim was nowhere to be seen. Whitey looked at Injun in wonder and alarm. Injun looked at Whitey with no expression of any kind.
"Mebbe they've killed Slim!" cried Whitey.