"You see where he was
headed for, don't yuh, Swan?" he asked, his tone as friendly as though
he was not under arrest as a murderer. "If he didn't go to Whisper, I'll
eat my hat."
"You're the man to know," Swan retorted grimly. And then, because Lone's
horse had slowed in a long climb over a ridge, he came up even with a
stirrup. "Lone, I hate to do it. I'd like you, if you don't kill for a
living. But for that I could shoot you quick as a coyote. You're
smart--but not smart enough. You gave yourself away when I showed you
Fred's saddle. After that I knew who was the Sawtooth killer that I came
here to find."
"You thought you knew," Lone corrected calmly.
"You don't have to lie," Swan informed him bluntly. "You don't have to
tell anything. I find out for myself if I make mistake."
"Go to it," Lone advised him coldly. "It don't make a darn bit of
difference to me whether I ride in front of you or behind. I'm so glad
you're here on the job, Swan, that I'm plumb willing to be tied hand and
foot if it'll help you any."
"When a man's too damn willing to be my prisoner," Swan observed
seriously, "he gets tied, all right.
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