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Next morning, I was awake before anybody. I got up, did my business at the s**t pile, cleaned up, and was ready to go by the time Rath came out of his tent. Dawn was just making its way into the canyon and a chill clung to us, everything damp with dew. I pulled on my wool jacket while Rath got up the fire and made coffee. Before I took any, I filled my cup with water and spent time rinsing and spitting, as would a man with a hole in his gums. I mopped with the bloody handkerchief and kept it to my mouth when I put coffee into the cup. At last I began to feel righted. I was now a detective on the job, nothing more. “How’d it go?” asked Bonner over breakfast. “How do you think?” I snapped, again playing the sorry fellow. “Man’s a brute with those pliers.” “Told you,” Bonner returned. “Y