‘I had five sixes and I beat yuh on the throw-off.’
‘You had four. On yore last throw, yuh saw that six on the side of the dice—not the top. But whatsa use of arguin’ with a drunken cowboy? Have a drink, Hartley?’
‘I’ll have a cigar, Bowen.’
‘You know yore own limitations. Their cigars are a lot older than their liquor. Would yuh mind tellin’ me what made yuh ask about that rug?’
‘I can’t tell yuh—yet,’ replied Hashknife, examining the ancient sample of a cigarmaker’s art, which fairly crumbled between his fingers. ‘Yuh don’t happen to know where Napoleon Briggs went, do yuh?’
‘If I did, I wouldn’t tell,’ said Bowen quickly. ‘Mebby you been talkin’ with Dave Morgan.’
‘Mebby I have.’
Hashknife tried to light the cigar, but it was too porous; so he discarded it in favor of a cigarette.
‘Did you boys know that Ben Leach was killed accidentally?’ he asked.
‘Accidentally, hell!’ snorted Spike, while the others merely smiled their disbelief.