“This is Jimmy Legg. He wants to be a cowpuncher so badly that he don’t know what to do—and we’re teachin’ him.”
“I’m sure he’ll make a good one,” said the innocent-eyed stranger, sizing up the uncomfortable Jimmy. “Yuh can’t hardly tell him from one now. If yuh hadn’t told us about him, we’d never know but what he was a top-hand. My name is Stevens. My pardner answers to the name of Hartley, and we’re proud to know you gents.”
“Proud to know you,” nodded the boys of the AK.
“We might as well mosey along,” said Johnny. “You aimin’ to stay in Blue Wells a while, gents?”
“All depends,” said “Hashknife” Hartley. “We hear that the Fall round-up is about to start, and thought we might hook on with some cow-outfit. We ain’t never been in here, yuh see.”
“Well, yuh might,” admitted Johnny. “I dunno how the rest of the ranches are fixed for help.”
“Does anythin’ ever happen around here?” asked “Sleepy” Stevens. “You know what I mean—any excitement?”
“Everythin’ happens,” said Eskimo, and they proceeded to regale them with a story of the robbery.
Johnny Grant went into details regarding the dog, which figured in the evidence, and by the time they got to Blue Wells, Hashknife and Sleepy knew practically all the details, as far as was known.
“We’d know more about it when the train gets in,” said Oyster. “Them trainmen say they can identify the dog, if it’s the same one.”