"And here's another point you don't want to overlook, none of you: Smoky Ford sets wrong fer a bank robbery to be pulled off durin' the day. Bank's away down at the wrong end of the street, and them cutbanks and washes where the bench breaks off down to the river bottom ain't rideable, except along the road. A bunch raidin' the bank would have to ride back through town and either cross the river or foller up the road to the bench, and take out across the reservation or come up this way. The trail across the river could be reached, uh course, by ridin' out back of town, the way Bat Johnson went with his pack outfit, but three or four riders foggin' along there would take big chances, seems to me. A job like that would need at least three men; two inside and one on guard outside the bank, jest in case anybody happened along. And even then it wouldn't be no picnic, right in daytime. With the town jammed into a pocket in the hills like that, and only two get-away trails, and them either leadin' around town or through it, they'd have to want money worse'n what I do." He laughed dryly. "Them loose horses shod all around and takin' out across the river to the hills--that looks too much like a blind trail to me. Nobody was seen ridin' through town, so after a play like that, what I'd guess they done was git to the river bank and drop on down river in a boat." Butch Cassidy, vaguely rumored to be something of an outlaw himself, spoke as one who knew the tricks of the trade. "River's too dang treacherous, down below the ford," Lark objected, with his mouth full. "It could be done, mebbe, but nobody in a hurry would ever think of doin' it. Moreover, what with rapids and bars and quicksands, there ain't a boat on the river anywhere; not that I know of." "My--my grandpa was--was makin' a boat," the eager voice of Skookum broke in upon them. "In a shed where--where calves was weaned." "Palmer, hunh?" Butch turned and stared reflectively at the boy, whom no one had noticed in the bunk house. A silence followed; a startled pause, as if each mind there took hold of the statement and turned it about and eyed it with surprised attention. Only Butch's light blue eyes, set close together, held a peculiar gleam. "When was this, kid?" "That was 'fore I come here with--with Lark. And--and--" "Here! Quit that stutterin', kid, and take yore time." Lark spoke sharply, his eyes darting inquiring glances at Bud and the others. "Tell it slow, Skookum, and be dang sure you tell it straight. It's liable to mean a lot. You say yore grandpa was makin' a boat. Did he say what for?" Skookum shook his head, his eyes big and round with the thrill of giving information to all these gods and heroes whose deeds and lightest words were things to dwell upon.