“I thought so.”
“Didja? Who are you fellers, anyway?”
“Couple of soft-shelled eggs.”
“I guess so!” Jack snorted his unbelief. “Don’tcha know that Lo Lo Valley ain’t a very healthy place for strangers right now?”
“——!” snorted Sleepy. “Mebbe yuh think we don’t. Take a squint at my arm—and ask me that.”
“I reckon I know what yuh mean,” said Hashknife slowly. “Mebbe it looks kinda queer for us to be gallivantin’ around here, but we had a danged good reason.”
He explained to Jack how they had missed their train, and their reasons for going to Turkey Track siding. The explanation seemed plausible enough.
“Yo’re a cattleman, ain’t yuh?” asked Hashknife.
“Well,” Jack laughed shortly, “I dunno. I’ve got cattle, if that’s what yuh mean, stranger.”
“My name’s Hashknife Hartley,” said Hashknife. “This here droopin’ lily beside me is Sleepy Stevens.”