King looked curiously at Hashknife. The sheepmen heard what Hashknife said, and one of them eased himself into a position whereby he could draw a gun. The others looked at each other, and eating ceased.
“What did yuh mean by that, Hashknife?” asked Steen.
“C’mere.”
Hashknife led them away from the diners. Once out of earshot, he squatted on his heels and began rolling a cigaret. Steen sat down against a boulder and accepted a smoke, while Sleepy stretched out full length and yawned wearily. King did not sit down.
“All right, Hashknife,” said Steen. “Tell us what it’s all about.”
“Yeah, I’m goin’ to do that, Bill. I came all the way up here to tell yuh; but before I tell yuh all about it, I’d like to have yuh tell me why yuh haven’t made any attempt to break through. You’ve been here too long. There’s a reason why, Bill; and I want to know what it is.”
“Of what interest is that to you?” asked King.
“A whole lot,” said Hashknife quickly. “And by givin’ me that information, I can probably save yore sheep, mebbe a lot of lives, and I can put the deadwood on the guilty men.”
“Save my sheep?” King smiled. “Save ’em from what?”
“Nobody answered my question,” reminded Hashknife.