Hashknife looked at Jimmy, who dug his heel savagely in the hard ground, appearing ill at ease. Finally he looked up, noticing that both Hashknife and Sleepy were waiting for him to answer Marion’s question.
“Well,” he said, “as far as I’m concerned, I’ll stay.”
“Three times—and out,” said Hashknife softly. “They’ve tried twice, Jimmy.”
“I know,” seriously. “But,” he grinned and peeled some sunburn off his nose, “I’m beginnin’ to think that you never will die until your time comes.”
“And that thought will sure help yuh win a lot of fights where the odds are all against yuh, Jimmy,” said Hashknife.
“Are you a fatalist?” asked Marion.
“Well,” grinned Hashknife, “if I wasn’t, I’d ’a’ been scared to death years ago.”
“I would like to hear about that Modoc affair,” said Jimmy.
Hashknife shook his head quickly.
“No, Jimmy. It wasn’t anything. Goode kinda got things twisted. I hope Carrie Nation gets some food on the table pretty soon.”