“It didn’t make him mad, did it, Goode?”
Goode looked curiously at Hashknife, his lips pursed thoughtfully.
“Well, it hadn’t ought to,” he said slowly.
Hashknife nodded. He liked Goode for that remark.
“We might as well go down to the ranch-house,” suggested Hashknife. “I reckon the shootin’ is all over.”
“I hope t’ gosh it is, Hartley. That’s nasty business.”
They went to the ranch-house, where Hashknife introduced Goode to Sleepy and Jimmy. Marion had gone into the house, but came out a few minutes later and was introduced. Hashknife explained how he had met Goode.
It was possibly a half an hour later that Goode rode away. His explanation of how he happened to be there on the hill so soon after the shooting did not satisfy Sleepy.
“That jigger’s eyes are hard,” declared Sleepy. “Jist like moss-agate. And he’s from Black Wells, Hashknife.”
“I sabe that,” smiled Hashknife. “But I don’t think he did fire that shot. He don’t look like a hired killer, and it’s a cinch he ain’t got no personal reason for killin’ any of us.”