“Sleepy,” says I. “You’ve plumb seen a ghost!” And then I says to myself, “You’re a liar, ’cause ghost-saddles don’t squeak.”
Then I stand up and looks around, and across from me, against the sky-line I sees a man. There’s only one way to find out whether he’s friend or foe, and that is to kill him.
I lifts my rifle against the light of the sky and tries to notch my sights. Then I took my rifle down, lays her on a rock and goes on without it. I reckon it must ’a’ hit a rock when I fell, ’cause the front sight has been knocked plumb off, and I ain’t like some fellers that can shoot a rifle by the sense of smell. I sneaks along, using every sense I’ve got, and all to once something tells me to stop.
I stands there for about two minutes, still as possible, and then I hears Windy’s voice whisper:
“I dunno, —— it! If it moves again I’ll take a chance.”
“It ain’t goin’ to,” says I.
“Got loose, did yuh?” asks Hashknife.
“No,” says I; “I dragged the whole —— mountain over with me. Did yuh see the ghosts? I knocked the sight off my rifle.”
“What ghosts?” asks Windy, and then I told ’em about the two riders I seen in the cañon.
“Think he’s lying, Hashknife?” asks Windy.