He had to
think, whether he would or no.
At the corral he came unexpectedly in sight of the Swede, who grinned a
guileless welcome and came toward him, so that Lone could not ride on
unless he would advertise his dislike of the place. John Doe, plainly
glad to find an excuse to stop, slowed and came to where Swan waited by
the gate.
"By golly, this is lonesome here," Swan complained, heaving a great
sigh. "That judge don't get busy pretty quick, I'm maybe jumping my job.
Lone, what you think? You believe in ghosts?"
"Naw. What's on your chest, Swan?" Lone slipped sidewise in the saddle,
resting his muscles. "You been seeing things?"
"No--I don't be seeing things, Lone. But sometimes I been--like I _feel_
something." He stared at Lone questioningly. "What you think, Lone, if
you be sitting down eating your supper, maybe, and you feel something
say words in your brain? Like you know something talks to you and then
quits."
Lone gave Swan a long, measuring look, and Swan laughed uneasily.
"That sounds crazy. But it's true, what something tells me in my brain.
I go and look, and by golly, it's there just like the words tell me.
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