For now
that he had determined to stay at the Double A no matter what happened,
discovery did not alarm him. He grinned at the little man,
deliberately, with a taunting smile that the other could not fail to
understand.
"You're a wise guy, eh?" he said. "Well, spring it. I'm anxious to
know how you got next to me."
"You ain't sore, then?"
"Not, none."
"I was hoping you wouldn't be," eagerly said the little man, "for I
don't want you to hit the breeze just now. I know you are not Will
Bransford because I know Bransford intimately. I was his chum for
several years. He could drink as much as I. He was lazy and
shiftless, but I liked him. We were together in Tucson--and in other
places in Arizona. Texas, too. We never amounted to much. Do you
need to know any more? I can tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"More," grinned the other man, "about yourself. You are
Sanderson--Deal Sanderson--nicknamed Square Deal Sanderson. I saw you
one day in Tombstone; you were pointed out to me, and the minute I laid
my eyes on you the day Dale tried to hang Nyland, I knew you.
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