“Wait till you see,” said the lawyer crisply. “We have to reckon with a malignant persecutor, I am already informed.”
“Well, I’ve got a bit to my bank credit,” Dick replied. “And we’ll draw on that first before I accept the generosity of an unknown friend. It will be quite a saving here,” he went on with a humorous twinkle in his eye as he glanced around. “Free board and lodging at the state’s expense for a week at all events.”
“Much longer than that, I am afraid,” gravely remarked the lawyer. “You see, Mr. Munson, just before you arrived we were discussing the decidedly unfortunate coincidence that at the time the shooting occurred, Mr. Willoughby, by his own admission, was in the little canyon below the scene of the tragedy.”
“Rounding up some cattle,” observed Dick. “Of course. But all the same, open to suspicion as being on the ground, and indeed being the first to reach the dead man’s side.”
“That should be proof of innocence,” observed Munson.
“Or may be taken as evidence of well-reasoned audacity to throw accusers off the trail,” retorted the attorney. “You see we have to look at everything, not from our own point of view, but from the other side. Now I want to learn something more about that quarrel between you and young Thurston at the cattle muster.”
“He made an insulting remark about one of the young ladies from La Siesta,” replied Dick. “I told him I would tan his hide if he ever did it again. That’s all. But the last thing I want is that these ladies’ names should be dragged into the case.”
“But his remark and your reproof were overheard by others,” commented the attorney.
“Oh, yes, by a bunch of ranch hands.”
“Whose evidence will undoubtedly be called for the prosecution, necessitating, perhaps, the evidence of the young ladies on our side.”