He stared down at the floor for several moments. Then he looked up and shook his head.
“That was awful—about those kids,” he said slowly. “I don’t think I deserved that. I—I don’t mind about the grown folks—but kids—little ones.”
He turned toward the door, as if to leave the room. Mac stepped in front of him, opened the door and started outside, when there came the sound of a sudden blow, followed by the ringing report of a rifle. Mac spun on his heel and fell face-down on the floor.
Hashknife and Sleepy had gone back to the hay, where they debated in whispers. Hashknife contended that it was none of their business if Eph King wanted to visit Jack Hartwell, but in spite of his contention, they got out of the hay and went outside the stable.
Once they thought they heard a horse traveling along the side of the hill behind them, but were unable to see anything.
“I don’t feel right about it,” whispered Hashknife. “Somethin’ makes me nervous.”
“Same here,” grunted Sleepy. “Everythin’ makes me nervous. By golly, I won’t feel like myself until I get out of this danged country.”
“Sh-h-h-h!” cautioned Hashknife. “Look toward the front fence. I seen somethin’, Sleepy. —— the dark, anyway! Don’t they ever have a moon around here?”
“I can’t see anythin’,” complained Sleepy.
“I can’t see it now. Probably seein’ things.”