“With all our valuables!” wailed Sleepy.
“That’s right,” agreed Hashknife. “There’s an ancient telescope valise, inside of which is three pairs of socks, seven packages of Durham, two cartridge belts and two holsters.”
“And my yaller necktie,” added Sleepy mournfully.
“Well, that’s almost frazzled out,” said Hashknife. “Yuh can’t wear ’em forever, yuh know, Sleepy.”
“Yeah, I s’pose. It’s a danged good thing that we saved our guns.”
“Wearin’ ’em à la shepherd,” laughed Hashknife, opening his coat to show the butt of a heavy Colt sticking out of the waistband of his trousers. “We was headin’ East, where it ain’t proper to wear ’em on the hip, yuh know. Feller kinda gets so used to packin’ a gun that he feels plumb nude if he ain’t got one rubbin’ his carcass.”
“And we don’t go East,” complained Sleepy. “Dang it all, I’ll never see nothin’, I don’t s’pose. That makes three times I’ve started East.”
“Yuh never got this far before,” laughed Hashknife. “Yo’re gainin’ on her every time, Sleepy. Anyway, we won’t have to fight that blamed caboose t’night, and that’s somethin’ to cheer about.”
They walked back to the Totem Saloon. The sheriff did not seem as friendly as he had been before they went to the depot. Down deep in his heart was a suspicion that these two men might be in the plot to sheep out Lo Lo Valley. They had arrived at an opportune time, and they did not seem greatly concerned over the departure of their train.
“What’ll yuh do now?” he asked, as they stood on the sidewalk in front of the Totem.