"Yes," whispered Jig.

"Will you tell me? Not that I make a business of prying into the
affairs of other gents, but I figure I might be able to help you
straighten things out with this Cartwright."

He made a wry face and then rubbed the side of his head where a lump
was slowly growing.

"Of all the gents that I ever seen," said Sinclair softly, "I ain't
never seen none that made me want to tangle with 'em so powerful bad.
And of all the poisoned fatheads, all the mean, sneakin'
advantage-takin' skunks that ever I run up again', this gent Cartwright
is the worst. If his hide was worth a million an inch, I would have it.
If he was to pay me a hundred thousand a day, I wouldn't be his pal for
a minute." He paused. "Them, taking 'em by and large, is my sentiments
about this here Cartwright. So open up and tell me what you done to
him."

To his very real surprise the schoolteacher shook his head. "I can't do
it."

"H'm," said Sinclair, cut to the quick. "Can't you trust me with it,
eh?"

"Ah," murmured Gaspar, "of all the men in the world, you're the one I'd
tell it to most easily. But I can't--I can't."

"I don't care whether you tell me or not. Whatever you done, it must