The two men did not seem in any hurry; neither did they act in a suspicious manner.
“Recognize them horses?” asked Hashknife.
“Nope,” Jack shook his head. “Lots of bays and blacks in this country. I wonder if it’s the same two men.”
“I think it is, Jack. Anyway, we’ll soon find out.”
They mounted and rode down at the rear of the shack, where they slid to the ground and approached the shack. In the little corral stood a light buckskin and a gray horse sweat-stained, leg-weary. The door of the shack was unlocked and there was no one inside.
Of furnishings there were none; but on the floor were nine bed rolls, spread, just as they had been when nine men got out of bed and left them. Hashknife grinned at the amazement in Jack’s face, and led them outside. They went to the corral and looked at the two horses. On the right shoulder of each animal was the mark of the JN outfit.
“More of the Jack Noonan stock, eh?” said Sleepy curiously.
“Yeah.” Hashknife nodded seriously. “Been ridden to a frazzle, too. Well, this is worth findin’, gents.”
“But what does it all mean?” queried Jack. “I don’t sabe it”
“C’mon,” ordered Hashknife, heading back to the horses. “We don’t want to be spotted here in this coulée.”