“And you sat here, readin’ an old paper, and never looked to see what it was all about, eh?” said Sleepy. “Well, that ain’t a bit like you. Kinda losin’ interest, or was the paper so danged interestin’?”
Hashknife yawned widely and laid the paper aside.
“I was readin’ how to stay beautiful after yo’re over forty,” he grinned. “It’s worth readin’.”
“I’ll betcha,” laughed Sleepy. He leaned forward and looked closely at Hashknife. “Whatcha been doin’—cuttin’ yore ear with a razor?”
Hashknife reached up, fingered his ear and looked at the smear of blood on his fingers.
“Piece of that glass must have flew back,” he said.
“Piece of what glass?”
“From the sheriff’s window, Sleepy. I reckon my head was about on a level with Baggs’s vest pockets.”
“You mean that somebody tried to kill you instead of Baggs?”
“Well,” grinned Hashknife. “I don’t want to steal any glory from Mr. Baggs; but I’m afraid that’s about what happened.”