"Reelfoot's a liar," declared the district attorney. "I never told him anything of the kind. Why should I?"

"I don't know. I'd like to find out." The fat man's stare was bright with suspicion.

The district attorney bristled. "Good Lord, man, I was always friendly with Tip."

"You were friendlier with Rafe Tuckleton," pointed out Felix, "and we all know Tip didn't have any use for Rafe after that Walton deal, and Rafe knew it."

"It's just possible," put in Sam Larder, "that Rafe put Reelfoot up to downing Tip."

"In which case," supplemented Felix, "you bein' so friendly with Rafe, it would be natural for you to help him."

"Next thing you'll be saying I killed Tip." Thus the district attorney with sarcasm.

"No, because that wouldn't be true. I know you didn't kill him. But I'm not sure you aren't an accessory before and after the fact."

The district attorney went pale. But he made no attempt to go after his gun. Not against Felix Craft. Not now at any rate. "I'll settle this with you later," he began. "I----"

"You'll never settle anything with anybody," Felix flung the insult with contempt.

"We'll gain nothing by fighting among ourselves," went on the district attorney evenly. "If we don't stick together, we'll hang together, and you can gamble on that. If Slike talks----"

"He'll implicate you and Tuckleton," Larder chipped in swiftly. "We're out of _that_ proposition."

"But we all aided him to escape from jail, so we are all guilty of felony. If Slike should choose to blat about it--" The district attorney left the remainder of the sentence to his comrades'

imagination.

"He's right," said Sam Larder suddenly. "We've got to stick together."

"All right," Felix Craft said grudgingly, "I'll wait until we're out of this muss before I ask you any more questions about egging Reelfoot to down Tip O'Gorman, Rale. Afterward I'll get the truth out of you if I have to choke you to death first. Oh, you needn't show your teeth at me, feller. You won't bite."

The district attorney swallowed hard. "You'll find your suspicion is baseless, Felix, baseless and unjust. I had absolutely nothing to do with the murder of Tip O'Gorman. Whoever told you----"

"n.o.body told me anything. I----"

"Let it go for now," broke in Sam Larder. "We've got to think of our skins. And if we don't catch Bill Wingo, they'll be gone skins."

"You bet they will," said the district attorney. "That man at large is a menace. He'd bushwhack any or all of us three without a moment's hesitation. He's--he's capable of anything."

"I know he's capable of anything," Sam Larder said with deep feeling, thinking of Billy's escape from the Larder ranch house. "And I'd give a good deal to know he was two feet underground. But Gawd knows we can't do more than we have done to catch him. Felix and me have ridden ourselves bowlegged combin' the Medicines for him."

"You bet we have," agreed Felix. "There ain't a square foot of those mountains we don't know intimate. Speaking personal, I've ridden--"

He paused and looked across at Sam Larder. "That bet was I'd ride more than six hundred miles in sixty days. Remember, Sam? And the sixty days ain't up yet, and I've ridden more than six hundred already."

"What bet's that?" asked the district attorney chattily, anxious to reestablish friendly relations. "Who you bettin' with?"

"n.o.body you're interested in," parried Felix Craft, it having been thought better to keep the district attorney in the dark regarding the happenings at the Larder ranch house on the day of the stage hold-up.

"I'll go the limit we've covered a thousand miles," groaned Sam. "I've lost thirty pounds myself. I don't believe Bill ever went near the Medicines."

"Oh, he went there, all right," said the district attorney. "Take my word----"

A pounding on the office door cut the sentence in half.

"You are certainly jumpy this evening, Rale," Felix Craft said dryly.

"Open the door. Maybe it's our friend Bill."

The district attorney obeyed with caution. Not that he expected Billy.

But then, he did not quite know what to expect. That it would be something to trouble him he was positive. He was not disappointed. It was a trio of the Tuckleton outfit, to wit, the foreman, Jonesy, and two punchers, Ben Shanklin and Tim Mullin. All three were in the worst of tempers.

"Look here, Rale," Jonesy began without preliminary, "you've fooled with us long enough, and we're sick of it."

"We want action," rapped out Ben Shanklin.

"You can't come any of this high and mighty stuff over me," said the district attorney, with an eye that flickered in spite of himself. "I don't know what you're talking about, but if you want anything, you'll have to ask for it in the right way, and maybe you'll get it and maybe you won't."

"Is that so?" fleered Jonesy. "We'll see about that. What have you done in Rafe's case?"

"We hope to land the murderer very soon. We have several clues.

We----"

Jonesy banged his fist down on the table with a force that made the windows dance. "Shut up! You and your 'we's!' Rafe's murderer is that d.a.m.n niece of Walton's, and you know it. You had her in the jug and you turned her loose. The evidence was insufficient to hold her on, you said. You said at that time you had evidence against Bill Wingo and expected to catch him soon. You haven't caught him, and we want to know what the evidence against him is. What is it? C'mon!

Spit it out!"

"Now look here," temporized the district attorney, "I can't tell you----"

"You bet you can't," interrupted the angry Shanklin. "'Cause why?'

Cause you haven't any evidence against him! The only evidence you've got is against Hazel Walton, and you've got enough of that to put her over the jumps."

"Lemme do the talkin', Ben," directed Jonesy. "Look here, Rale, either you tell us what evidence you got against Bill Wingo, or you issue a warrant for Hazel Walton's arrest. One or the other. Take your choice."

"Say, are you friends of Bill Wingo?" demanded the district attorney.

"You know better than that," snapped back Jonesy. "It's just that we're gonna know what's what."

"But what good will it do to rearrest Hazel Walton?"

"Then you haven't any evidence against Bill Wingo?" persisted Jonesy.

"I didn't say that. I----"

"If you can't tell us what the evidence is, we'll take it you haven't any. I knew there was some trick in it when you turned Hazel loose.

You and your evidence against Bill Wingo! You lousy liar, you gotta get up early in the morning to pile us! You listen to me! You issue a warrant for that girl's arrest immediate!"

"I can't," denied the district attorney. "I haven't the power to issue warrants. No justice of the peace has yet been appointed to fill Driver's place, and the nearest judge is Donelson at Hillsville."

"Under the law," horned in Felix Craft, suddenly choosing his side, "when a felony has been committed, and there is reasonable cause for believing that the person to be arrested has committed it, that person may be arrested without a warrant."

"I thought you didn't want anything to happen to Hazel Walton," fleered the district attorney.