"You see, Bostil cut them when he didn't need to," continued Creech, shrewdly.
"But he didn't know the flood was comin' down so quick. He was afeared we'd
come across an' git the boat thet night. An' he meant to take away them cut
cables. But he hadn't no time."
"Bostil?" queried Slone, as he gazed hard at Creech. The fellow had told that
rationally enough. Slone wondered if Bostil could have been so base. No! and
yet--when it came to horses Bostil was scarcely human.
Slone's query served to send Creech off on another tangent which wound up in
dark, mysterious threats. Then Slone caught the name of Lucy. It abruptly
killed his sympathy for Creech.
"What's the girl got to do with it?" he demanded, angrily. "If you want to
talk to me don't use her name."
"I'll use her name when I want," shouted Creech.
"Not to me!"
"Yes, to you, mister. I ain't carin' a d--n fer you!"
"You crazy loon!" exclaimed Slone, with impatience and disgust added to anger.
"What's the use of being decent to you?"
Creech crouched low, his hands digging like claws into the table, as if he
were making ready to spring.
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