“Might be all right,” grinned Sleepy. “They can’t shoot us in there.”
They caught Boomer Bates’ horse and got another from Jack. King and Jack helped them rope the two bodies to the saddles, and they started for Totem City.
“We’re runnin’ into a rope,” complained Sleepy. “You danged fool; you gets heroic thataway and declares to tell the truth. It sounds fine. And in days to come they will likely find out that we told the truth, and the little children will come out and strew vi’lets on our graves on Decoration Day.”
“They won’t use no rope on us,” grinned Hashknife. “Mebbe they won’t believe us, and mebbe they’ll talk real big; but me and you are goin’ down there, talk the truth and then get so danged tough that they’ll let us alone; sabe?”
“Uh-huh,” said Sleepy doubtfully. “I’ll betcha we can do that in Totem City. They sure get scared easy.”
They were near the forks of the road, traveling along in the moonlight, when they met five riders, who had swung off the Arrow road and were traveling toward Jack Hartwell’s place. They were Gene Hill, Skinner Close, Micky Hart, Mel Asher and Paul Dazey.
Hashknife tried to crowd past them with the two packed horses, but they swung their horses to block the road.
“Jist about who have we here?” asked Gene Hill. He had been drinking.
“F’r ——’s sake!” blurted Micky Hart. “Looks like a killin’ has been done.”
One of them dismounted and began lighting matches, while the others shoved in closer and looked at the bodies.