“Wanted me to clear Jimmy Moran. English Ed had filled Moran up with a lot of stuff. I wouldn’t trust Holmes as far as I could throw a prize bull by the tail.”
“You didn’t take the case, did you, Hashknife?”
“Not so much you’d notice it.”
“Boy, howdy! Now we can high-tail out of here, eh?”
“Mm-m-m-m. Let’s go down and see how Roarin’ is gettin’ along.”
They found Roaring Rigby sitting on the edge of the cot that he had moved into the office. His eyes were blurred with sleep, but he grinned a welcome.
“Took a little shut-eye,” he said. “Fixed me up pretty good, too. Ho-o-o-o-hum-m-m-m-m! Gosh, I shore was sleepy! What’s new in the world?”
“Nothin’ much,” replied Hashknife. “Roarin’, what kind of a gun did Jimmy Moran use?”
Roaring yawned heavily.
“Colt. I’ve got it here.”