Hashknife grinned and began rolling a cigaret.
“Bill,” he said slowly, “I didn’t know you were here. I’m not a —— bit in sympathy with the sheep, but I thought it might be worth my while to come up and tell you what had happened.”
“Just how would it be worth yore while, Hashknife?”
“C’mere.”
Hashknife led him out of earshot, where they squatted on their heels and blew Bull Durham smoke in each other’s faces.
“Go ahead,” grunted Steen.
“Bill—” Hashknife was very serious—“why did the sheep stop where they are?”
“Why?” Steen grinned. “Dead-line.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s fine. And what else?”
“Nothin’ else, Hashknife.”