“Did Prentice own the house?” asked Hashknife.
“Belongs to Harry Cole,” said the sheriff. “Prentice rented from him.”
“Mebby Baggs will give us a job on the Box S,” grinned Sleepy.
“Stranger things than that have happened,” grunted Breezy.
“Shore,” grinned Hashknife. “I remember readin’ about the sea openin’ up and lettin’ the Hebrews go through dry-shod.”
“I never swallered that,” choked Breezy. “Must ’a’ been plenty mud. I don’t believe in mi-rackles, but the jigger that served this steak shore does. Hey, Charley! Take this steak back and try it on the next customer. I know when I’m whipped.”
“Don’t like taste?” inquired the Chinaman.
“Boy, I never got that far. Gimme some aigs.”
“Yessa.”
Hashknife turned to the sheriff, who was grinning.