A silence significant, almost sinister, fell. Gary rose from the doorsill, took a restless step or two and turned, so that he faced Monty, and the open doorway. He looked past Monty, into the cabin. A quick glance, almost a furtive one. Then he laughed, meeting Monty’s inquiring eyes mockingly.
“Seen anything? No. Nothing I shouldn’t see, at least. Why?” He laughed again, a mirthless kind of laugh. “Did Waddell throw in a spook along with the Voice?”
“Waddy got powerful oneasy,” Monty observed, choosing his words with some care. “Waddy claimed he seen Steve Carson frequent. I didn’t know—Say! Did the Piutes tell yuh-all how Steve Carson looked?”
Gary’s eyes slid away from Monty’s searching look.
“No. I didn’t ask. I just got a notion that Waddell maybe looked like that.” He lifted his
