this feller--" he indicated the prisoner--"last night, whin he had that
racket wid Larry Blake in th' bar? Fwhat was they rowin' over?"

"That hawss o' Blake's mostly," was Ingalls' laconic answer. "Course
they was slingin' everythin' else they could dig down an' drag up, too."
He chewed thoughtfully a moment, "We had some time with 'em," he added.

"Shore did!" struck in Reed. "We was scared fur Larry, so we told him to
beat it home--which he did--an' then we got Windy up to bed an' stayed
with him nigh all night."

Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively. "Yuh can vouch for this, tu,
Billy? He's bin in yu're place iver since th' throuble smarted?"

Brophy nodded. "Yes! d----n him! I wish he had got out before this
bizness started. Yes! he's bin here right along, Sarjint! why?--what's
up?"

Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment. Silently awhile he
gazed at the three wondering faces. "Now, I'll tell yez!" he said
slowly. And briefly he informed them of the murder--omitting all detail
of the clues obtained later. They listened with wide eyes and broke out
into startled exclamations. The prisoner struggled up from the chair,
his bruised, ghastly face registering fear and genuine astonishment.
Redmond shoved him back again.

"If any feller thinks--" Moran relapsed into maudlin, hysterical
protestations of innocence, calling upon the Deity to bear witness that
he was innocent and had no knowledge whatever of how Blake came to his
death.