Nick and a feller named Pete, shot each other to death while trying to kill Bub and Reddy. Pete thought he was shooting Charlie and the half-breed killed him just to have company, I guess. Then there’s two scoundrels called Ben and Joe. We left ’em up Rangeley way. Both plugged rather seriously, but they’ll git well enough to go to prison.”
“I’m glad I did not offer a thousand for each item,” smiled the president, now completely restored to good nature. “Anything else?”
“I vum! I plum fergot,” cried Abner. “We found where Nace cut over a public lot. The Frenchmen remembered working fer him on it. So we’ve got a clear case ag’in him. He’ll have to turn over some twelve thousand dollars to the town. And I guess that’s all and I’ll be going.”
“But I am interested in you. Wait a bit,” invited the president.
“And I’m interested in Reddy out there and must hustle out—”
“Have him in here,” commanded the president.
“It’s the youth who thought of the pulp pipe line,” reminded Hatton. Then from the door, “Here, Reddy. Come in here.”
