“Minnie not white man; Minnie Injun.”
“You won’t tell, Minnie?”
“You go tell sheriff; Minnie hear nothing.”
Without another word he bolted from the rear of the house and went running toward the street. The sound of the shots had been heard by a number of people, but as there had been no further disturbance they decided that some cowboy was merely working off some extra steam by shooting holes in the sky.
Hashknife and Breezy did not hear the shots, and were unprepared for the entrance of little Larry, choking for breath, as he stumbled into the sheriff’s office. Breathlessly he blurted out his story of the killing.
“Yuh say he’s dead?” asked Breezy. “Sure he’s dead, Larry?”
“I didn’t look,” panted Larry. “Minnie said he was.”
“Take it easy, son,” advised Hashknife calmly. “You say that somebody knocked on the door, and when Prentice went to the door this somebody shot him twice?”
Larry nodded quickly.
“Not a word spoken?” asked Hashknife.