Sleepy’s snores still resounded in the little room, and Hashknife grinned widely to himself, as he snuggled down into the blankets.
“Somebody’s goin’ to swear real hard when they unpack that horse,” he told himself. “And me, like a darn fool, got so blamed excited that I never even looked at its brand. All fools ain’t dead yet, but one of ’em is feelin’ twinges of rheumatics.”
It was just at daylight that Baldy Kern, Jack Baum, Two-Fingers Kohler, and Ben Horan rode in at the K-10 Ranch. Baldy was mounted behind Jack Baum, and they were a disgruntled quartet of cowmen.
Kohler’s right cheek was streaked with blood from a bullet furrow, and Ben Horan’s ribs were still aching from a bullet which had scored them. They dismounted and turned their horses into the corral.
Doctor Meline met them at the corral, and his expression showed that he was worried.
“Well?” he queried shortly.
“No ‘well’ about it!” snapped Baldy. “C’mon in the house.”
Meline followed him in, trailed by the others, and they sat down.
“Somebody got wise,” said Baldy wearily. “We lost the stuff.”
“You lost it!”