Hashknife and Sleepy had heard what was said, as had Lee Yung. The sheriff turned to Hashknife.
“When will you see Hawkworth again?” he asked.
“Tomorrow mornin’, I reckon.”
“All right. You tell him about that package, will yuh?”
“Sure thing.”
The agent went out and the sheriff went hunting for another chance to lose his money. He was an inveterate gambler. Lee Yung finished his drink and crossed to the roulette game, while Hashknife and Sleepy went to the hotel, engaged a room, and put their horses in the hotel stable.
“Well,” said Sleepy, “we got away with it, cowboy. They never even questioned us closely.”
“That’s true,” agreed Hashknife. “I wish I knew who Kern suspects. He kept his mouth shut tight, ’cause he thinks he’s got the deadwood on somebody. And there was a valuable package on that stage for Big Medicine, valued at five hundred dollars.”
“We’re here to cure yore rheumatism,” reminded Sleepy.
“I’m cured,” grinned Hashknife.