As quickly as he was able, Hashknife dragged him out of line with the broken window and made an examination. His face was covered with a sticky liquid, and both of his eyes were rapidly turning black. He grunted and sat up.
‘What in hell hit me?’ he demanded.
‘Looks to me as though it was the condensed milk,’ said Hashknife thankfully.
‘Exploded?’
‘Yeah—from a bullet.’
‘Bullet?’
‘Somebody tried to pot us through the window, Sleepy.’
Sleepy got to his feet, wiping the milk off his face, while Hashknife investigated. The bullet had smashed through the window and ricocheted on the table-top, driving the can of condensed milk square into Sleepy’s face, and had struck the opposite wall.
‘Look at m’ eyes!’ wailed Sleepy, touching them tenderly with his fingers. ‘Can’t hardly see, damn it!’
‘You’re lucky, cowboy. A few inches higher and you’d be an angel instead of a milkmaid.’