"
Gray had heard Uncle Pros tell the story many times, but it had a
perennial charm.
"Then I lost six months--plumb lost 'em, you know. And time I come to
myself, Johnnie an' me was a-huntin' for you. And there we found you
shut in that thar same cave; and I was so tuck up with that matter that
I never once thought, till I got you home, to wonder did Buckheath and
the rest of 'em know that they'd penned you in the silver mine. I ain't
never asked you, but you'd have knowed if they had."
"I should have known anything that Rudd Dawson or Groner or Venters
knew," Gray said, "but I'm not sure about Buckheath or Himes. However,
Himes is dead, and Buckheath--I don't suppose anybody in Cottonville
will ever see him again."
Pros's face changed instantly. He leaned abruptly forward and laid a
hand on the other's knee.
"That's exactly what I came down here to speak with you about, Gray," he
said. "They've fetched Shade Buckheath in--now, what do you make out
of that?"
Stoddard shoved the letter from the Eastern mining man back in its
pigeon-hole.
"Well," he said slowly, "I didn't expect that. I thought of course Shade
was safely out of the country. I--Passmore, I'm sorry they've got him."
After a little silence he spoke again. "What do I make of it? Why, that
there are some folks up on Big Unaka who need pretty badly to appear as
very law-abiding citizens.
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