“Where did yuh find him?” asked the sheriff.
“About a mile from here, out toward the Tumblin’ H,” said Hashknife. “He was lyin’ near the road, and his horse had kinda got tangled in the brush. Do yuh know who he is?”
“Sam Blair,” said Baldy. “Worked for me.”
The crowd ringed the body, while the sheriff made his examination.
“Knife or gun?” queried Baldy.
“Gun—twice,” said the sheriff. “Good shootin’.”
He opened the dead man’s shirt and covered the two wounds with the palm of his hand.
“Wasn’t no nervous finger on that trigger, gents. Sam Blair never knowed what hit him.”
“Didja find his gun?” asked Baldy, examining the empty holster.
“Never looked,” replied Hashknife. “Probably there in the dirt.”