Hashknife grinned and hitched up his belt,
“Yo’re askin’ me to do somethin’, gents. I never asked for a chance to untangle yore hay-wire situation. Mebbe I ain’t got no better idea than you have, but, if yo’re willin’ to trust me, I’ll do the best I can.”
“How soon do yuh start, and can I go along?” queried Honey Wier. “I’m tired as —— of makin’ dynamite bombs.”
“Dynamite bombs?” said Hashknife.
“We’re goin’ to attack the sheep tonight,” explained Hall. “And every man will carry an armload of dynamite.”
“Oh, I see,” muttered Hashknife. “Well, yuh may not have to do anythin’ like that. Have all the men got their bombs ready?”
“Yo’re danged right they ain’t,” laughed Honey, “and if they wait for me to make ’em up, they never will have.”
“We’re all goin’ to meet here about nine o’clock tonight and get ready for the attack,” said Marsh Hartwell. “Perhaps it would be best to smash the sheep pretty badly and then go after the rustlers. While the sheepmen are recovering from the battle, they’re not liable to try and drive their sheep.”
“No, that ain’t the idea,” said Hashknife thoughtfully. “I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ lately, and the success of my idea hinges on one thing. I can’t tell yuh what it is now, and it may look to you like I’m crooked, but I’m takin’ that chance.
“Go right ahead with yore dynamite idea. If I’m wrong, I’ll throw a few hunks of it myself, but don’t throw any until yuh hear from me. C’mon, Sleepy.”