“Ain’t he?” Sleepy smiled wisely. “Just suppose Mr. Goode is one of that gang of train robbers? He knows what we done in the Modoc country. Figure it out for yourself.”
Hashknife nodded seriously.
“Yeah, that might be true. Mebbe he thinks we’re here to work on that case. I hate to get fooled on humanity, Sleepy. That feller may be awful slick. He’s either innocent, or smooth as satin, because he sure had an alibi on the end of his tongue.”
“But he didn’t have any rifle,” said Jimmy.
“A rifle is easy to hide,” said Sleepy, shaking his head. “Nossir, I’d look out for Mr. Goode.”
“But that shot was fired at me.” Jimmy was not to be denied of his thrill. “It went right past my ear.”
“And why would Goode shoot at Jimmy?” questioned Marion.
Hashknife laughed and picked some of the burrs off his knees.
“We’ve got to get an answer-book, folks. I’m glad that the heirloom was only creased. But from now on we’ve got to be mighty careful. Unless I’m mistaken, that shot was only a beginnin’.”
“Do you think you ought to stay here?” asked Marion nervously. “I mean, to take a chance on your lives, just to help me out?”