“Pollock around this mornin’?” Hashknife intended giving him the billfold.
“Pollock left on the eleven-thirty train for Frisco last night.”
“Thasso?”
“Yeah, he decided to pull out. Lobo Wells ain’t big enough for Pollock. He got smashed up in an accident in Frisco, so he came up here for a trip. I didn’t know you’d met him.”
“I hadn’t,” dryly. “Anybody else go west with him?”
“I don’t think so. What made yuh think they had?”
“Miss Singer went to Frisco on that same train.”
“Did she? I don’t think she knows Pollock.”
Hashknife and Sleepy left the saloon and walked up to the depot. The depot agent happened to be a genial sort of person, with plenty of time on his hands.
“You don’t sell many tickets, do yuh?” asked Hashknife.