‘Call me Hashknife.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m Sleepy.’
Rex turned his head and glanced at Sleepy.
‘Why don’t you go in and lie down?’ asked Rex.
Hashknife grunted so explosively that he blew his cigarette out into the yard, while Sleepy slid down on his shoulders, shaking with laughter.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Rex blankly.
‘That’s what made it so damn funny,’ choked Hashknife. ‘He meant that his nickname was Sleepy.’
‘Oh, I knew that; but I—I didn’t realize it at the time. I guess it did sound rather like a joke.’
‘Rather,’ chuckled Sleepy. ‘But don’t mind me; I’m just a bow-legged puncher, tryin’ to get along in the world.’