I know that one we had the other day like to of scared her into
hysterics. I laughed at her and joshed her out of it."
"Didn't she ever say anything about Fred Thurman, then?" Warfield
persisted.
"Not to me, she didn't. Fred was dragged that night, and if she heard
about a man being killed during that same storm, she might have said
something about it. She might have wondered if that was what she saw. I
don't know. She's pretty sensible--when she ain't crazy."
Warfield turned his horse, as if by accident, so that he was brought
face to face with Lone. His eyes searched Lone's face pitilessly.
"Lone, you know how ugly a story can grow if it's left alone. Do _you_
believe that girl actually saw a man shot? Or do you think she was
crazy?"
Lone met Warfield's eyes fairly. "I think she was plumb out of her
head," he answered. And he added with just the right degree of
hesitation: "I don't think she's what you'd call right crazy, Mr.
Warfield. Lots of folks go outa their heads and talk crazy when they
get a touch of fever, and they get over it again."
"Let's have a fair understanding," Warfield insisted.
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