Anastacio, in his turn, brought his chair to the floor, at the same
time unclasping his hands from behind his head.

"I'll do that little thing, Sheriff," he announced mildly. "Miss
Vorhis has already told us that she has not seen Foy since yesterday
noon. That is quite sufficient."

Silence.

"This makes me fidgety. Somebody say something, quick--anything!"
begged Pringle. "All right, then; I will. Let's go back--we've dropped
a stitch. That goes about me being a liar and a damned one, Sheriff;
but I'm hurt to have you think I'm a cur-dog. You're the sheriff,
doin' your duty, as you so aptly observed. And you've done took my gun
away. But if bein' a cur-dog should happen to vex me--honest, Sheriff,
I'm that sensitive that I'll tell you now--not hissing or gritting or
gnashing my teeth--just telling you--the first time I meet you in a
strictly private and unofficial way I'm goin' to remold you closer to
my heart's desire!"

"You brazen hussy! You know you lied!"

"You're still harpin' on that, Sheriff? That doesn't make it any
easier to be a cur-dog. How did you know I lied? You say so,
mighty positive--but what are your reasons? Why don't you tell your
associates? There is an honest man in this room. I am not sure there
are not two--"

Anastacio's eyes again removed themselves from the ceiling.