He was trying to think of the way.
"Oh, Bill!" he called, getting stiffly to his feet.

"Let's get into the cabin and go over those tally books." Which was merely a subterfuge to get Bill away from the wagon without letting the boys know something was wrong.

Bill got up, brushed the dirt off his trousers with a flick of his fingers, lighted the cigarette he had just rolled and followed the boss.
"Bill, what's your idea about this horse-stealing, anyway?
If they were going to steal horses, why didn't they run off a whole herd and be done with it ?" Bill seated himself on Johnny's bunk, spat toward the stove, pulled a splinter off the rough board of the bunk's side, and began carefully nipping off tiny shreds with his finger nails.

Bill, by all these signs and tokens, was limbering up his keen old range-bred wits for action.
"Well, I'll tell yuh.

The way to get at the thing is to figger out why you'd do it, s'posin' you was in their place.