‘Morgan, you must have had quite an experience the night you arrived here,’ said Hashknife.
Rex grinned slowly. ‘I surely did, Hashknife. I wonder why that man struck me over the head.’
‘Some of the folks,’ said Hashknife slowly, ‘seem to doubt that yuh got hit. They think yuh fell off the horse and hit yore head on a rock.’
‘I did not!’ indignantly. ‘Not that I couldn’t have done such a thing. You see, I had never ridden a horse before. But there is something that has bothered me, Hashknife. Just before I reached the house I went through a big gate.’
‘You went through a big gate?’ pondered Hashknife.
‘I was obliged to get off the horse to open the gate.’
‘But there is no gate here.’
‘That is the queer part of it.’
‘Hm-m-m-m,’ Hashknife grunted softly as he rolled another cigarette. ‘Went through a big gate, eh? How was it fastened?’
‘I don’t remember that it was fastened.’