Belt and money were gone!
Sanderson got up again, walked to the door and called.
A heavy-featured man slouched down the corridor and halted near the
door.
"Awake, eh?" he grinned. "Dale sure did hand it to you--now, didn't
he? Well," he added as Sanderson's lips straightened at his words,
"what's eatin' you?"
"I had a belt with some money in it--four thousand. What's become of
it?"
"Four thousand!" the man jeered. "That bump on the head is still
affectin' you, I reckon. Four thousand--shucks!" He laughed. "Well,
I ain't seen it--if that's any consolation to you. If you'd had it
when you come here I'd sure seen it."
"Who brought me here?"
"Dale and his first deputy--the guy you poked in the stummick, over in
the Okar Hotel. They tell me you fi't like hell! What's Dale got
ag'in' you? Be sure was some het up about you."
Sanderson did not answer. He turned his back to the jailer and walked
to the cot, again sitting on its edge. He heard the jailer sniff
contemptuously, but he paid no attention to him.
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