“I kinda looked for that Mexican to make a break,” said Sleepy softly. “I had my eye on that jigger beside the wall, too. He’s got somethin’ under that dirty blanket thing he’s wearin’, and I reckon it’s a knife. I was just waitin’ for somethin’ to start and then I was goin’ to hang him to the wall on the hot end of a bullet.”
“I reckon I’ve kinda squared things with Torres,” observed Hashknife.
“Thasso?” Sleepy scratched his hand on his thigh. “What’s the idea of squarin’ things with him?”
“I’ve got to pry into things some way,” said Hashknife. “I’m bettin’ that there’s two outfits in on some kind of a deal, and I’ve got to dig my way into one of ’em.”
“If we showed any sense, we’d dig out of here,” declared Sleepy. “Prob’ly get ourselves into a jam over nothin’.”
“Somebody got Big Medicine’s money, Sleepy.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“And somebody tried to kill yore little playmate.”
“Well, go ahead, cowboy. I s’pose you could dig up a lot more reasons for stayin’ here.”
Hashknife laughed. He knew that Sleepy would never quit complaining if they rode out of Hawk Hole without finding out why certain things had happened. It was Sleepy’s nature to talk as if he were a prize pessimist.