Ike and Cleve were hitching a team to the wagon. Big Medicine and Musical came out of the front door and walked down where Hashknife squatted in the shade of the stable.
Ike and Cleve drove away, and Sleepy went down to join those at the stable.
“What do yuh know about Lee Yung the Chinaman?” asked Hashknife.
“Not much,” replied Musical. “He’s a plunger, I sabe that much. Yuh can’t tell anythin’ about a Chink, but I’d bet my last cent that Lee Yung is a smuggler. I tell yuh there’s Chinks bein’ run through this country, and drugs. Lee Yung ain’t the kind that would waste his time over what he can win in Pinnacle.”
“He went out on the stage last night,” offered Sleepy.
“Thasso? Well, if I was a officer I’d watch that Chink.”
“Talks good English,” said Hashknife.
“And thinks like an Oriental, I suppose,” smiled Big Medicine. “It is a dangerous combination. I have never met Lee Yung. I feel morally responsible for Hawk Hole, and I hope that Musical is wrong about the drug-smuggling. As far as the smuggling of Chinese is concerned, I have nothing to say.
“They are not a menace as far as I can understand. Our Government admits many emigrants less desirable than Chinese. Except in rare cases, the Chinese are a peaceable race, and their troubles are only their own people. Unlike the whites, they are a bit particular whom they kill.”
“That’s right,” grinned Hashknife. “They seem to draw the color line. I’ve never seen one that would lie. They either tell yuh the truth, or tell yuh nothin’.”