Johnny drew Hashknife aside, and they sat down together on a pile of shattered adobe bricks.
“I’ve been wantin’ to talk with you, Hartley,” said Johnny seriously. “Yo’re workin’ on this hold-up case, ain’t yuh?”
“Well?” Hashknife admitted nothing.
“I heard yuh was; so I’m goin’ to tell yuh what I know about it.”
And while the other boys examined the wreckage, Johnny Grant told Hashknife of that night in Blue Wells, when they got drunk and locked the sheriff in his own cell. And of the incident at the train, when they staged an impromptu battle with the engineer and fireman; not knowing what it was all about.
He told Hashknife of the man who came along the track in the dark, went into the express car and got the dog.
“Somebody cut our broncs loose that night,” said Johnny. “I understand that the sheriff’s horses were also turned loose, and it kinda looks as though it was done to prevent a posse from trailin’ ’em. Of course, they wouldn’t know that Al Porter was in Encinas, visitin’ his girl, and that the sheriff was in jail.”
Hashknife grinned widely and thanked Johnny for his information.
“Thasall right,” said Johnny. “Yo’re sure welcome. Yuh see, we don’t care much for the sheriff and his deputy. They said we ought to be run out of the country; so we kept still about what happened to us. But when they jailed the Taylor outfit, I just got to thinkin’ that mebbe our evidence might help to land the right ones. I didn’t want to give it to Wade, the railroad detective, because he acted so —— smart; but I’m givin’ it to’ you, because you—because I had a talk with Goode, over at the X Bar 6.”
“Well, that may not help us all the way out, but it’s somethin’ to grab on to,” smiled Hashknife. “That feller Goode probably lied a lot about us, but he means all right, I guess.”