“He’s going to be a good one, too.”
“As good as any,” laughed Jimmy.
“You’ve had a good start, I hear,” chuckled Le Moyne. “They tell me that you almost killed Scotty Olson and Lee Barnhardt the day you came here.”
“And never got arrested,” laughed Jimmy. “This is a wonderful country.”
Hashknife Hartley and Sleepy Stevens came out of the store, halted on the edge of the sidewalk to light their cigarets, and went on across the street.
“Who are those men?” asked Marion. “I noticed the tall one looking at me in the courtroom.”
“One—the tall one—is named Hartley,” said Jimmy. “The other is Stevens. They met us at the forks of the road this evening, and rode in with us. They’re strangers here, it seems.”
Marion and Jimmy strolled on toward the hotel and Le Moyne went to the store. Hashknife and Sleepy mingled with the crowd in the Oasis, and finally took seats at a table near the rear of the place. Business was good, all the games filled, and the bar was doing a big business.
The engineer, fireman and the express messenger came over to the saloon and joined the crowd at the bar.
“Plenty of excitement,” observed Hashknife. “This hold-up seems to have kinda stirred up Blue Wells, Sleepy.”