“Not very much,” replied Hashknife. “I wish you’d take me to the spot where they found Joe Mallette.”
“Yea-a-ah? What for, Hashknife?”
“Curiosity, I suppose.”
“Uh-huh. Will you stay here, Sleepy? Got to keep somebody around here. Wind River ain’t much use right now.”
“Go ahead,” laughed Sleepy.
Roaring led Hashknife through the alley between the Black Horse Saloon and the restaurant, out past the rear of the judge’s home, to a spot between there and the end house of the redlight district.
“This is the spot,” said Roaring. “I wasn’t here that night, but several of the boys showed me the place.”
Hashknife studied the spot for a while, while the sheriff watched him curiously.
“Mallette was drunk, wasn’t he?” asked Hashknife.
“They say he was. Drank absinth. Some of the boys said they wondered how he was able to walk.”