There was a moment’s silence, in which a look [[139]]of undisguised suspicion came into the narrowed eyes.
“Um.… Calc’late you fellers better come up to my office an’ sign your names in my book.”
“ ‘Book’?” Scoop repeated, regarding the other quizzically.
“Maybe it’s a cook book,” was Red’s smart remark.
“No,” the old man waggled, setting his long shaggy hair into motion, “it hain’t no cook book. It’s a ledger in which I keep a record of the people who pass through my lock.”
“You didn’t say anything about it this morning,” Scoop reminded.
“Didn’t I? Wal, my memory hain’t always the best.”
“If it isn’t necessary,” Scoop said, impatient to get through the lock, “we’d rather not bother with it. For we’re in a hurry.”
The narrowed eyes snapped.
“In a hurry, hey? Thought you jest said you was a-ridin’ ’round fur the fun of it.”