“Then don’t let me get anythin’ on yuh, Steil. Yo’re a dirty horse thief, a crook and a liar. I dunno what yo’re doin’ here in Lo Lo Valley, but I’m goin’ to find out. And that same goes for Wide-loop Curt.”
Jack stepped back, watching them closely for the gun play which did not materialize. Without a word, Curt and Steil turned, walked across the street and went into the Totem Saloon. Neither did they look back.
“And that,” said Jack musingly, “beats anythin’ I have ever seen. Steil and Curt are supposed to be gun fighters, Hartley.”
Hashknife sighed deeply and turned to Jack.
“Didja find yore wife, Hartwell?”
“Not even a trace of her. My ——, I don’t know where to look. She didn’t leave here on the train last night. Just what did that man tell you before he died?”
Hashknife told him the exact words. Jack shook his head wearily.
“Not a man by that name in this country, Hartley. It might have been a sheepman, of course.”
“Yeah, that might be,” agreed Hashknife dubiously. “But if it was, why did he shoot the other one?”
“—— only knows, Hartley. I don’t know what to do, where to look, or anythin’.”