His finger-tips explored the right side of his face; now and then he winced under their touch, light as it was.
"I must have carried an awful load," he decided, again unerringly taking the backward trail from effect to cause.

Later, logic carried him farther.

"Who'd I lick, Sandy ?" "Several." The unseen Sandy gave one the impression of a man smoking and speaking between puffs.

"Can't say just who--you did start in on.

You wound up on--the preacher." "Preacher ?" Ford's tone matched the flicker of interest in his eyes.
"Uhn-hunh." Ford meditated a moment.