Old man Dumble gleaned more.
"We're dealing with a tenderfoot and a stranger to the saloon-keeper,"
he said, as we struck into the sage-brush wilderness. "The fool didn't
know enough to spend a few dollars at the bar. He called for one
lemonade."
"Well," said Ajax, "you are teetotal yourself; you ought to respect a
man who calls for lemonade."
"I ain't a thief," said our neighbour. "If I was," he added, "I reckon
I'd cover my tracks around saloons with a leetle whisky. Boys, there's
another thing. This feller we're after is ridin' too fast. Them colts
won't stand it. Young things must feed an' rest. The saloon-keeper
allowed they were footsore a'ready, and kinder petered out. We must
keep our eyes skinned."
"You're a wonder," said Ajax. "How you divined that the thief would
travel this trail beats me."
"Wal," said old man Dumble, "it's this way. There's a big dealer comes
three times a year to Bakersfield; he pays good money for good stuff--
an' he asks no questions. I happened to hear he was a-comin' down only
las' Sunday."
Something in his voice, some sly gleam in his eye, aroused my
suspicions.
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