"
Ware was looking at him shrewdly.
"That fits," he declared. "I couldn't figure why my old friend Bill
didn't cut loose. But he's got a head on him."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, when he see Oldham dropped, what use was there of going to
shooting? It would just make trouble for him and he couldn't hope for no
pay. He just faded."
"He's a quick thinker, then," said Bob.
"You bet you!"
The two men laid Oldham's body under the shade. As they disposed it
decently, Bob experienced again that haunting sense of having known him
elsewhere that had on several occasions assailed his memory. The man's
face was familiar to him with a familiarity that Bob somehow felt
antedated his California acquaintance.
"We must get to the mill and send a wagon for him," Ware was saying.
But Amy suddenly turned faint, and was unable to proceed.
"It's perfectly silly of me!" she cried indignantly. "The idea of my
feeling faint! It makes me so angry!"
"It's perfectly natural," Bob told her. "I think you've shown a heap of
nerve. Most girls would have flopped over."
The men helped her to a streamlet some hundreds of yards away.
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