"I know you are," Barrett returned with significant stress.
"What's wrong up at Eagle Rock camp that both of you fellows come down here? Who's looking after the horses?"
"Senator Nearing, I left Eagle Rock camp at noon with Fred Grubb, after he'd saved my life in that trap you and Findlay laid for me."
"What's the matter with you?" Nearing demanded, as if half way between vexation and anger. "I don't like that kind of a joke."
"After you left Findlay over west of Eagle Rock canyon this morning, Senator Nearing, he came to camp with two men, hot-foot on the arrival of a Mexican half-breed with one thumb—the fellow you delegated to come there and put out my humble light. He's over there at camp with a butcher knife through his heart, and the show-down has come between you and me."
"I don't know what you mean—damned if I know what you mean!"
"Fred Grubb can substantiate what I've said. The Mexican is dead, Alvimo killed him as he was slinging his gun to shoot me. That part of it wasn't on the books, Alvino's part; I thought you'd like to know."
Nearing stood as if trying to read in the dark in Barrett's face whether he might be demented. He made a poor pretense of it, as his unsteady voice betrayed.
"Come over here—let me get down to the bottom of this thing you're telling me. There's some mistake, Ed. I don't know anything about a Mexican with one
