bent fingers he extracted a toothpick from the band. He stuck it defiantly in his mouth. “Maybe I was. What then?”
“Well—I’d like to have a little talk with you about that night.”
Cherry surveyed him closely. “You’re a new one on me,” he said. “An’I thought I knew every sheriff an’deputy west o’the Rockies.”
“Then you’ll admit something happened at Madden’s that might interest a sheriff?” returned Eden quickly.
“I ain’t admittin’nothin’,” answered the old prospector.
“You have information regarding last Wednesday night at Madden’s,” Eden persisted. “Vital information. I must have it.”
“Nothin’to say,” replied Cherry stubbornly.
Eden took another tack. “Just what was your business at Madden’s ranch?”
Mr. Cherry rolled the aged toothpick in his mouth. “No business at all. I jest dropped in. Been wanderin’the desert a long time, like I said, an’now an’ag’in I drifted in at Madden’s. Me an’the old caretaker, Louie Wong, was friends. When I’d come along he’d stake me to a bit o’grub, an’a bed in the barn. Sort o’company fer him, I was. He was lonesome-like at the ranch—only a Chink, but lonesome-like, same as if he’d been white.”
“A kindly old soul, Louie,” suggested Eden.
“One o’the best, boy, en’that’s no lie.”
Eden spoke slowly. “Louie Wong has been murdered,” he said.
“What’s that?”
