Hashknife had said nothing about the events of the night. Jack Hill was able to attend the meal, but said little. Since Big Medicine had upbraided him he had been sullenly silent, except when he had an opportunity to speak alone with Wanna.
As a result the boys of the Tumbling H ignored him. They had been considerate of him, but not friendly.
“Hair’s too slick,” declared Ike, and that seemed to be their general opinion.
But their indifference had little effect on Jack Hill, who looked upon them as a lot of uncouth louts, which, from his viewpoint, they probably seemed to be.
Breakfast was hardly over when three men rode up to the house and dismounted. Big Medicine saw them through the window, and he squinted wonderingly.
“Federal officers,” he said. “Three of ’em.”
He went to the door, followed by the other men. It was the first visit of the officers, three hard-bitten border officers, Ed McGurk, Art Whaley, and “Skinner” Burns.
“Hello, Hawkworth,” said McGurk, as his eyes searched the faces of Hashknife and Sleepy, knowing that they were strangers.
“Good morning, McGurk,” replied Big Medicine easily. “Riding early, it seems.”
“Does seem thataway,” nodded the officer. “Rode a lot earlier than this—and others done the same.”