"But one day the boss came back and every blamed Indian in sight was stretched out on the ground snorin' to beat thunder. One smart one had slipped up behind the glass eye and slipped an empty tomato can down over it so it couldn't spy on 'em. And so when I seen your false teeth I thought of that Carson City feller's false eye, only his was covered up with an old tin can and yours was settin' out in the open, tellin' me things.
"For one thing they was tellin' me I maybe might be right on the suspicions I'd had about them tracks up above. First, though, I asked some questions without lettin' on to anybody what I had in my mind. A detective on a case don't go round blabbin' his business to everybody in sight, you know. I found out Hurley never had a bad tooth in his head. So this plate must belong to the fellow that was with him, which was you. That was point number one.
"I found out what size foot Hurley had and what kind of a boot he was wearin.' Point number two: them fake tracks up above couldn't have been made by him. They must have been made by you. Question then was, why should you want to sneak out of that basin and duck your nut without spreadin' the word? Says I to myself, 'That's for me to find out.' So havin' quietly confisticated that plate for evidence, I climbed up to the sandy stretch of the trail without bein' noticed particular by any of the party and I made certain I hadn't been wrong in the first place about them tracks."
"You keep harping on that," said Chaney with irritation. "What was wrong with those tracks? Mind you, I'm not admitting anything nor confessing anything, but I'm asking you what was wrong there?"
The under-sheriff grinned in appreciation of his own shrewdness.
"Nothin' much was wrong with them, only this," he explained. "There was one set too many, that's all. When you backed across that sand you done a first-rate job, but you plumb forgot to brush out the prints you'd already made comin' in. You'd got down out of the saddle and was walking your horse when you started down that day. I'm right, ain't I? You needn't answer--I know I am. Well, that was your mistake, brother--not wipin' out the first set. So there they was as plain as the nose on your face--two sets of prints, about a yard and a half apart and both pointin' in the same direction!