‘Not a bit; can’t feel anythin’.’
He turned to Nan. ‘Better go to bed pretty quick, and don’t worry any more. Fix up the kid’s feet the best yuh can, and they’ll be all right. C’mon, boys.’
He limped from the house to his horse, with the two men close behind him. Ghost nickered softly and rubbed his muzzle against Hashknife’s vest.
‘Can’t travel very fast,’ said Hashknife. ‘That cañon is shore hell on a horse. There’s places where Ghost had to almost crawl on his knees. Yuh shore need sky-hooks and a lot of faith in the Almighty to make that trip.’
CHAPTER XX: IN THE SMOKE OF A FORTY-FIVE
It was rather a big night at the Oasis, as far as the bar was concerned. Morgan was helping the overworked bartender, while Mesa City discussed what had become of Nan and Rex. Hashknife, too, had not been accounted for, but Spike Cahill declared that Hashknife could take care of himself.
‘But he never got into that damn cañon,’ said Cal Dickenson, of Dave Morgan’s outfit. ‘I tell yuh, it can’t be done.’
‘The hell it can’t!’ snorted Spike. ‘I was jist one inch of goin’ into it myself to-day. A hondo on that rope was all that saved me. A inch ain’t far, Cal.’
The boys laughed with Spike. They knew just how close he had come to smashing his bones on the rocks.
Joe Cave came in from the Flying M and joined the gang. Joe was cold-sober now, but willing to be otherwise.