They climbed on to their horses, while the cattlemen watched them, wondering where they were going, what they were going to do. But they asked no questions. Vane grumbled profanely, but turned back to the coffee pot, while Hashknife and Sleepy rode out through the brushy trail, swung straight north and rode across the dead-line, heading toward Eph King’s sheep camp.
No one challenged them. If any of the sheepherders saw them they kept out of sight, knowing that two men would be taken care of by those at the rear.
Bill Steen and Eph King were just riding into camp as the two cowboys topped the hill above them. There were at least ten other men there, eating a meal, who deserted their food at sight of the two cowboys; but at a sign from Steen they went back and sat down again.
Hashknife and Sleepy dismounted, shaking hands with Steen, who introduced them to King.
“We’ve met before, but not socially,” smiled King. “Bill was tellin’ me that you were up here to see him. I had an idea that you two might be responsible for me bein’ in Totem City jail, but Jack didn’t think so, and Bill wanted to make me a big bet that I was mistaken.”
Hashknife grinned and shook his head,
“I never put a man in jail, unless he deserved it, King.”
“Then yuh don’t think I deserve it, Hartley?”
“I didn’t think so. Right now I don’t know what to think. Either you ought to be hung—or——”
“Or what?”