He lounged past the jail and almost ran into one of the Tin Cup punchers, known as “Jimmy Longhair,” who seemed to be making an indifferent getaway from the rear of the jail. Jimmy was the long-haired puncher who had been with the sheriff at the capture of Skeeter Bill.
“Hyah, Hair,” greeted Roper jovially. “How’sa dandruff?”
Jimmy Longhair glared evilly from under the floppy brim of his sombrero, but made no reply. He was a trifle touchy about his hair, but did not want to get tough with Roper Bates.
“Whatcha tryin’ to do—break in the back door?” continued Roper, grinning.
“None of yore —— business!” growled Jimmy.
“Go to the head of the class,” gulped Roper. “I betcha I know what yuh was tryin’ to do. You Tin Cup snake-hunters want to lynch Sarg, and when yuh find that Freel won’t let yuh, yuh sneak around tryin’ to shoot him through the back winder.”
“Aw-w-w, ——!” disgustedly. “No such a —— thing.”
Roper rocked on his heels and considered Jimmy Longhair appraisingly.
“Listenin’?”
Jimmy proceeded to roll a cigaret, which gave him an alibi to neglect an answer. Then the door of the sheriff’s office opened and shut, and Freel came past them. He barely looked at them, but neither gave him more than a passing glance.