They went cautiously around the house, walking sidewise, with their backs against the wall.
“’Bout a dozen of ’em,” warned Sleepy, but Hashknife gave his warning no heed.
They could hear Jake Blue questioning Skelton, and the murmur of other voices.
“Where’s the dead man?” It was Doc Clevis’ voice.
“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” replied Skelton.
Hashknife peered around the corner and stepped out, with Sleepy beside him. Jake Blue and Doc Clevis were on the porch arguing through the open door with Skelton, while the rest of the men were still mounted. The nearest man to them was a grim-faced person, with a heavy red mustache. Just beyond him was a heavy-set cowboy, with an enormous nose.
“Horse-thieves from the Hashknife!” snorted Hashknife loudly.
Every one turned quickly, and just as quickly they realized their disadvantage. Hashknife was standing with his legs far apart, his right hand resting on his hip just over the top of his holstered gun, while Sleepy stood with one elbow braced against the house and his hand swaying over the butt of his Colt.
“Don’t move, Blue,” cautioned Hashknife. “You and Doc just hold that pose or the picture is spoiled.”
Hashknife did not seem to look at them as he spoke, but watched the two mounted men nearest him.