"What makes you think so?"

"Easy! He's got brains, hain't he? I rode with him maybe a mile, but I
could see that. Well! If he'd stole that money, they wouldn't 'a' found
it yet. Them fellows make me tired!"

Pete made a pretext of thirst and brought a bucket for water from the
spring, crooking a finger at Jackson Carr to follow. Carr found him
seated at the spring, shaking with laughter.

"Jack, he's all there--your boy! Couldn't any judge size it up better."

"Frame-up, then?"

"Sure! That part's all right."

"I see you wasn't much taken aback."

"No. We was expectin' something like that and had discounted it. I'm just
as well pleased Stan's in jail just now, and I'm goin' to leave him there
a spell. Safer there. You remember old Hank Bergman?"

Carr nodded.

"Well, Hank's the sheriff here--and he'll give us a square deal. Now I'm
goin' back to interview that boy of yours some more. I reckon you're
right proud of that kid, Jack."

"Yes; I am. Bobby's a pretty good boy most ways. But he swears something
dreadful."