"I can," said the deputy marshal. "It ain't hard when you seen as many go west as I've seen. It ain't harder than it is to tell when the sand will be out of an hour glass. When they begin going down the last hill it ain't hard to tell when they'll reach the bottom."
"Ain't you had anybody to spell you, Fatty?" broke in O'Brien.
"Yep. I got Haw-Haw Langley up there. But he ain't much help. Just sits around with his hands folded. Kind of looks like Haw-Haw wanted Jerry to pass out."
And Matthews went humming through the swinging door.
CHAPTER XV
OLD GARY PETERS
For some moments after this Buck Daniels remained at the bar with his hand clenched around his glass and his eyes fixed before him in the peculiar second-sighted manner which had marked him when he sat so long on the veranda.
"Funny thing," began O'Brien, to make conversation, "how many fellers go west at sunset. Seems like they let go all holts as soon as the dark comes. Hey?"
"How long before sunset now?" asked Buck Daniels sharply.
"Maybe a couple of hours."