"The dirty coyote!" Slivers' face whitened, then flushed to an angry red, as he leaped to his feet. "I'll kill him!" "Keep cool, kid. Spur sure made a mistake when he tried to fasten that killin' on yuh, 'cause yuh can easy prove yuh warn't within five hundred mile of the Little Deadman's when the killin' was done. An' let me tell yuh now, your gal don't believe it a-tall!" "Damn it, yuh can grin, but it--I----" "Shucks, there ain't no use gettin' her up," Allen interrupted. "Didn't I just tell yuh Spur overplayed his hand when he tried to fasten that second killin' on yuh?" Slivers regained his composure with an effort and once more sat down by the fire. "Now, what's to be done?" he asked. "Yuh can't do nothin' in a hurry--we got to sorta wait for Spur to bungle another play. What I want of yuh is this--first, the names of the gents yuh figger yuh can trust, then I wants yuh to tell me all over again just what happened the night Iky Small got gunned," Allen replied, as he poured out a cup of steaming black coffee. "There's Bill McAllister, the foreman----" Slivers commenced. "Ex-foreman," Allen corrected. Slivers Hart mentioned name after name, but the only ones who were still at the ranch were Maverick Ed Stone, Flat-foot, Shorty, Snoots Stevens, and Arizona, the cook. The rest had been replaced since Slivers left the country. "Spur is stackin' the deck with his own men," Slivers commented. "Sure. What do yuh suppose he'd do?" Allen said cheerfully. "Now, tell me about that killin'." "Iky Small worked for me, an' he was so blamed lazy I kicked him off the place. I had supper with Dot Reed an' her pa. I was goin' to Malboro the next day to try an' wrangle some money out of ol' 'Miser' Jimpson, so I decides to cut for town an' stay there for the night. It's close to thirty mile from the Double R to town an' it's near midnight when I gets to the crossroads, where the trail branches off to my outfit, the Double B. I meets 'Squint' Lane, an' he tells me 'Doc' Hollis has hotfooted it out to see my ma, who is plumb sick. His cayuse is fresh an' mine is tuckered, so he offers to swap. We changes saddles, an' I hotfoot it to my place--it's about twenty-five mile from there. "When I gets there, I find my ma sleepin' peaceful an' not sick a-tall. I gets hot under the collar at that, for I figger Squint done it as a joke. Makin' a hombre ride fifty mile ain't no joke, an' so I gets mad. I throws Squint's hoss in the corral, forks another, an' hits for town to give Squint a drubbin'. It was close to ten in the morning when I gets near town. I meets Snoots Stevens, an' he tells me that Iky Small was gunned, shot through the back of the head, an' that a bunch of stranglers is lookin' for me.