"He can't see himself through because he is blind," was the heavy answer.
There was a moment of shock, of hushed surprise, and then a voice burst
forth: "Blind--they've blinded him, boys! The dagos have killed his
sight. He's blind, boys!"
A profane and angry muttering ran through the crowd, who were thirsty,
hungry, and weary with watching.
Osterhaut held up the horseshoe which had brought Ingolby down. "Here it
is, the thing that done it. It's tied with a blue ribbon-for luck," he
added ironically. "It's got his blood on it. I'm keeping it till
Manitou's paid the price of it. Then I'll give it to Lebanon for keeps."
"That's the thing that did it, but where's the man behind the thing?"
snarled a voice.
Again there was a moment's silence, and then Billy Kyle, the veteran
stage-driver, said: "He's in the jug, but a gaol has doors, and doors'll
open with or without keys. I'm for opening the door, boys."
"What for?" asked a man who knew the answer, but who wanted the thing
said.
"I spent four years in Arizona, same as Jowett," Billy Kyle answered,
"and I got in the way of thinking as they do there, and acting just as
quick as you think.
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