When Hashknife refused to talk any more, Baldy’s eyes fastened on Torres, and he walked over to the hunched figure.
“Where’s the woman and girl, Torres?” he asked.
“Quien sabe?” grunted Torres. “I know nothing about women.”
“Why all this talk about women and girls?” asked Gonzales. “Are they your friends, Kern?”
“They are not,” denied Kern. “I don’t care a damn who took ’em, but I don’t want the blame.”
“You’ll have a mighty short time to protest yore innocence; if yuh go back across the border,” said Hashknife.
“Aw, shut up!” snarled Baldy. “Damn yuh, you won’t live to enjoy it, anyway.”
“Mebbe not,” Hashknife smiled softly. “Yuh never can tell. I’ll die when my time comes and not before, Kern. Yore mistake was in lettin’ my pardner get away. The Tumblin’ H outfit were waitin’ in Pinnacle for him, and I’m bettin’ that most of the town is with ’em now.”
“You fool!” snarled Kohler. “This is Mexico. They won’t dare cross the line.”
“You crossed it, didn’t yuh?”