“I suppose that’s right. The darn fools might have killed somebody. Hank, if you see Wind River, will you tell him to sober up and get back on the job?”
Hank promised and went back to the Black Horse. Hashknife examined the shell he had fired, and a faint smile twisted his wide lips. He handed the gun back to Roaring, who was scrubbing his face with a handkerchief, trying to remove the ink, which had already dried in.
“Put that gun in a safe place, will you?” asked Hashknife.
“You’re right I will!” spluttered Roaring. “How’d you ever come to fire it thataway?”
“Slipped,” grinned Hashknife. “Mind if I talk with Jimmy Moran?”
“I reckon not. I’ll bet they’re wonderin’ what all the shootin’ was about.”
They opened the jail door and went in. Pete was frightened. He thought there had been an attempt to take him from the jail. Jimmy laughed joyfully at Roaring’s description of how Lovely and Horse-Collar and Wind River had got drunk and had come down to get him out of jail.
“They’re a wild bunch,” laughed Jimmy. “All heart and no brains.”
“I want you to tell me about Conley’s shootin’,” said Hashknife. “I’ve got Miss Conley’s story.”
“What’s the idea?” asked Jimmy cautiously.