“Prob’ly,” agreed Hashknife dryly. “It’s so danged dark that yuh couldn’t see it.”
They drew rein and debated upon their next move.
“Let’s go ahead a little ways,” suggested Hashknife. “Mebbe we ain’t past it. The sheriff said we couldn’t miss it.”
“Mebbe he was educated in a night school and can see like an owl,” laughed Sleepy as they rode on.
Suddenly both horses shied from something that was in the middle of the road. Hashknife dismounted quickly and made an examination.
“An old telescope valise, busted wide open,” he remarked. “Lot of women’s plunder, looks like. Must ’a’ fell out of a wagon.”
He lighted several matches and examined it, while the two horses snuffed suspiciously at the smashed valise.
“I’ll just move it aside of the road, where the owner can find it,” said Hashknife. “Some woman is worryin’ over the loss of all them things, I’ll betcha.”
They laughed and rode on, peering into the darkness. About two hundred yards beyond the valise, the two horses jerked to a stop. Hashknife’s horse snorted and tried to whirl sidewise off the road, but the lanky cowboy swung it back and dismounted again.
“It’s a woman this time,” declared Hashknife as he leaned over the dark patch on the yellow road. “That driver must ’a’ been pretty careless to lose his load thataway. Here, hold some matches for me, Sleepy, and don’t let loose of my bronc. That danged jug-head must be a woman-hater.”