The Sheriff's Son
Two hours had slipped away before Dingwell commented on the fact that the sheriff had not arrived. He did not voice his suspicion that the Mexican had been intercepted by the Rutherfords.
"Looks like Sweeney did n't get my message," he said lazily. "You never can tell when a Mexican is going to get too tired to travel farther."
"Better hook up with me on that gold-mine proposition, Dave," Hal Rutherford suggested again.
"No, I reckon not, Hal. Much obliged, just the same."
Dave began to watch the game more closely. There were points about it worth noticing. For one thing, the two strangers had a habit of getting the others into a pot and cross-raising them exasperatingly. If Dave had kept even, it was only because he refused to be drawn into inviting pots when either of the strangers was dealing. He observed that though they claimed not to have met each other before there was team work in their play. Moreover, the yellow and blue chips were mostly piled up in front of them, while Meldrum, Rutherford, and the curio dealer had all bought several times. Dave
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