“You better take their word for it,” grinned Jack.
“Is that so?”
“Very likely.”
“You know ’em, do yuh?”
“Ask Casey Steil about Hashknife Hartley.”
“That’s the tall one,” said the sheriff quickly. “Casey knows him, does he?”
“I think he does.”
“Well—” the sheriff picked up his saddle and turned to the pinto—“I reckon all I can do is to go back and wait for ’em to show up and talk about it.”
He mounted his pinto, carrying the saddle in his arms, and headed for Totem City, while Jack and his father faced each other, both waiting for the other to begin.
“What did you want here?” asked Jack after a long silence.