Hashknife pursed his lips and began rolling a cigaret. The sheriff had seen Casey Steil’s face, which told him that Casey had recognized these two men. Hashknife glanced up and found the sheriff looking closely at him.
“You know Casey Steil?” he asked.
“Casey Steil?” Hashknife frowned. “Where does he live?”
“Uh-huh.”
The sheriff turned his horse and rode away. Hashknife looked inquiringly at Sleepy, who grinned widely.
“Lives at Uh-huh, Hashknife. Didja ever hear of that town?”
“That was Casey Steil who just went into the store,” offered old Sam Hodges.
“Thasso?” Hashknife squinted toward the closed door. “What made the sheriff think I knowed that jigger?”
Old Sam did not say. He felt that it was none of his affair.
“Casey Steil worked for Slim De Larimore,” he said.