Hashknife glanced down at him and looked at Eph King, who was staring down at the face of the dead man.
“Who is he?” whispered Jack. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“I—I don’t know,” said King, but Hashknife knew from the expression on the sheepman’s face that he lied.
“Let’s take him back to the house,” suggested Hashknife.
The four of them carried him back and placed him on the floor of the ranch house, beside the body of the man called Mac. Hashknife looked at the other man and at Eph King.
“Bushed him, eh?”
“Mac just opened the door,” said King slowly. “It could have been me.”
“Was this feller gunnin’ for you?”
King stared at Hashknife for a moment and shook his head.
“No. I don’t understand it at all. Poor old Mac!”