Crowfoot nodded agreement and chewed placidly at his cigar. He could face such a situation without turning a hair--as could Wellman. “Bart’s in no shape to do any commenting,” Crowfoot amplified. “But I tell you he will,” Freel insisted. “Sit down,” Wellman instructed. “Plant yourself in a chair and quit prowling in circles. You’ll wear out the rug.” “Bart might be feeling a trifle venomous since Noll tried to down him,” Crowfoot conceded. “It would have been preferable if Noll had quit living before he took that shot at Bart. But in order to link you with it he’d have to convince folks that he recognized your voice at night, then prove that you’d come from Wharton instead of any one of a hundred other points on the map. Not a chance in ten thousand.” “But Carver’s into it now,” Freel pointed out. “You know what that means. He’s been waiting for a chance at me.” “What you mean is that you’ve been waiting for a chance at him,” Crowfoot corrected. “And you’re crediting him with holding the same sentiments toward you.” Crowfoot was not one to allow personal differences or dislikes to obscure his judgment. “He’s the kind that’ll not interest himself in your affairs unless you go romping over onto his reservation and prod him into hostilities that he’d likely be wanting to avoid if only you’d let him. You’d better let this man Carver strictly alone. He’ll do the same by you.” Neither Wellman nor Freel was prepared to accept this bit of advice. “Then I’ll just tender one more suggestion,” Crowfoot announced, after finding himself overruled. “If you’re set on this business, then I’d urge that you do it yourselves, just the two of you, instead of hiring it done.” He was familiar with Freel’s roundabout methods. Wellman endorsed this last suggestion. “Absolutely,” he agreed. “Me and Freel will tend to this matter in person.” Freel failed to state whether or not these sentiments met with his full approval. Crowfoot regarded him closely, then stretched and rose from his chair. “Once there was three men in a town,” he remarked. “The rest didn’t count overmuch. One of the three had sand but no brains. Another was equipped with cunning but was totally minus of nerve. The third had both sand and brains.” “And which one was you?” Freel inquired. “I mentioned myself last,” Crowfoot answered without hesitation. “And being equipped like I explained, it does look like I could do better to trail by myself instead of being mixed up with a pair of rat-brained miscreants like you. If you’re set on stirring up Carver, you can just count me out.” He departed and left Freel and Wellman to perfect their own plans.