He knew that the horses had passed close to the corral, although he had been unable to glimpse any of them. Softly he drew on his boots, buckled on his belt, and slid out through the narrow window, which was only a few feet above the floor.
Hashknife chuckled at his appearance and hoped that none of the Hawkworth family might awake and see him. He was clad in a gray suit of underwear, which had changed its original shape from many washings, a pair of boots, and a cartridge belt.
He went slowly out across the yard and around to the corral gate, scanning the hills for any sign of the horses which had passed. A chill wind was blowing, which Hashknife realized was not the best thing in the world for his rheumatism, and he was about to turn back when something inside the corral attracted his attention.
His investigation disclosed the fact that a weary-legged packhorse was standing in there, head hanging low, and showing every indication of having traveled far and fast. Hashknife spoke to the animal and examined the pack, which consisted of pack sacks, hung to a pack saddle and lightly covered with a tarpaulin, over which a diamond hitch had been thrown.
“Kinda queer,” observed Hashknife to himself. “Somebody sure left this animal here in a hurry, so we better have a look.”
Swiftly he took off the hitch, threw aside the tarpaulin, and lifted down the pack sacks. A short investigation showed him what the sacks contained. For several moments he debated. It was a dangerous cargo to be handling; worth a fortune in the right place. And the owners were sure to come back after it.
He picked up the two sacks, went through the corral gate and into the cañon, where he dumped the contents and came back with the sacks.
Hashknife knew how to throw the diamond hitch, and in a few minutes the animal was packed again, sans contents. The rawhide pack sacks held their shapes, and would have to be taken off the saddle before the lack of contents would be noted.
Then he went back up the cañon and began disposing of what he had confiscated. It was considerable of a task to put it all away in the dark, and to obliterate all sign of the burying, and he was busy for the greater part of an hour.
And he was so busy that he did not see a man sneak around the corner of the barn, lead the horse out of the corral, and disappear. But he discovered the loss of the horse when he went back past the corral. The gate sagged open, creaking slightly in the wind. So he fastened it and went back to the house and crawled into the window.