"Them Piutes will git paid if ever I can pay them. I'd parched myself but for them.... We circled an' crossed them red cliffs an' then the strip of red sand, an' worked down into the canyon. Under the wall was a long stretch of beach—sandy—an' at the head of this we found Bostil's boat."
"Wal,—!" burst out the profane Brackton. "Bostil's boat! ... Say, 'ain't Joel told you yet about thet boat?"
"No, Joel 'ain't said a word about the boat," replied Creech. "What about it?"
"It was cut loose jest before the flood."
Manifestly Brackton expected this to be staggering to Creech. But he did not even show surprise.
"There's a rider here named Slone—a wild-hoss wrangler," went on Brackton, "an' Joel swears this Slone cut the boat loose so's he'd have a better chance to win the race. Joel swears he tracked this feller Slone."
For Slone the moment was fraught with many emotions, but not one of them was fear. He did not need the sudden force of Holley's strong hand, pushing him forward. Slone broke into the group and faced Creech.
"It's not true. I never cut that boat loose," he declared ringingly.
"Who're you?" queried Creech.
"My name's Slone. I rode in here with a wild horse, an' he won a race. Then I was blamed for this trick."