“What if they don’t?”
“Then we’ll have to ride away from here, thinkin’ that you are the lowest coyote alive, Eph King.”
King’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Yo’re in my camp, Hartley. Maybe you won’t ride away.”
“Now wait a minute,” begged Steen. “Don’t anybody go off half-cocked.” He looked up at King. “I know Hartley, Eph. He ain’t the kind to say a thing like that without a good reason, and we’ve got to get this thing right.”
“All right,” growled King grudgingly.
“Thank yuh, Bill,” said Hashknife. “Now tell me why yuh didn’t try to force the sheep through.”
“Because it would be suicide, Hashknife. The plans went wrong. You know as well as I do that we can’t get through.”
“Thasso?” Hashknife smiled thoughtfully. “And yo’re waitin’ until somebody finds the hole for yuh to crawl through, eh?”
Steen and King exchanged glances.