The dirty cur.
He could of got me clear.... He wanted to make 'em give me up, to git
the reward.... Their game is to make folks think you been doing these
things, and to send you up for 'em."
He stopped to rest, but even now did not look to see what effect his
words had upon his hearer.
"I don't know much about it," he went on after a moment. "You can find
out. But I do know they stole a saddle of yours, and a horse. They're
going to stick up the stage out of Rock Creek Mines next week; there's
going to be some shooting, and a horse is going to get killed. That'll
be your horse, Buck. An' it'll have your saddle on."
He had told his story. He told nothing of how he knew, and Thornton did
not press him, for he guessed swiftly that somehow the telling would
implicate Kid Bedloe, who was a pal... and little Jimmie Clayton was not
going to squeal on a pal.
Half an hour after he had come to the dugout Thornton left it. For
Clayton would not talk further and would not let him stay.
"I got a horse out there," he had said irritably. "I can get along. I'm
going to move on in the morning. So long, Buck."
So Thornton went back to his horse, wondering if, when tomorrow came,
Jimmie Clayton would not indeed be moving on, moving on like little Jo
to the land where men will be given an even break, where they will be
"given their chance.
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