“Better let up on it, Sunshine,” he advised.
“Oh, h’lo, Sudden,” said Sunshine owlishly. “Meet two of the mosht perfec’ gen’lemen, Sudden. Misser Hartknife Hashley and Steepy Stevens. Gen’lemen, thish is Misser Smithy, our sheriff. Hurrah for the king, queen and both one-eyed jacks!”
Sudden grinned widely and shook hands with Hashknife and Sleepy, while Sunshine tried to shake the bar with both hands to hurry the bartender. Sudden was sober. Hashknife explained about their reasons for being in Totem City.
A couple of cowboys clattered into the place and came up to the bar, where they had a drink and bought a bottle to take with them. Both men were carrying rifles in their hands, in addition to the holstered guns on their hips. Both of them spoke to Sunshine and Sudden, but went away immediately.
Hashknife and Sleepy looked inquiringly at each other, but asked no questions. They were wise to the ways of the range, and knew that, as an ordinary thing, cowboys did not carry Winchesters in their hands at midnight, drink whisky in a hurry and ride away without any explanation.
But the sheriff vouchsafed no explanation, although they felt that he knew what was afoot. They drank to each other’s good health.
“They’re goin’ Easht,” explained Sunshine owlishly to the sheriff. “Use yore influensh, Shudden. Tell ’m lotta lies, won’t yuh? No use wastin’ good cowboys on the Easht, when we need ’m sho badlee. Talk to ’m.”
“You better go to bed,” advised the sheriff. “This ain’t no condition for you to be into, Sunshine. Yo’re a disgrace to the office yuh hold.”
“Tha’s right. I’m no good, thassall. No brainsh, no balansh. Ought t’ git me a steel bill and live with the chickens. I’m jist ol’ Shunshine Gallagher, if I do shay it m’shelf. But with all my faults, I’m hungry as ——. Now, deny that if you can. I dare you to deny me the right to eat.”
“Speakin’ of eatin’,” said Hashknife seriously, “I’m all holler inside.”