“Hook your feet to the dirt and keep your hands above your waist!” he growled.
Then he saw Sleepy.
He peered closer and the muzzle of the shotgun came down.
“Your name Stevens?” he asked.
“Hey!” gasped Sleepy. “You’re ‘Bliz’ Skelton! Well, you danged pelican! Whatcha know about that?”
Sleepy fairly fell off his horse and bow-legged his way up to the door, where he and Skelton shook hands.
“This is Hashknife Hartley, my pardner, Bliz.”
“Ex-cuse m’ scatter-gun,” said Skelton, as he shook hands with Hashknife.
“Danged old dodo!” Sleepy grinned widely. “Ain’t seen you since you owned the O-Bar-O in Eagle River. You ain’t changed much, ’cept to get homelier ’n ——. Mrs. Snow said that Amos Skelton owned this ranch. Never heard nobody call yuh anythin’ but Blizzard.”
“Christened Amos,” grunted Skelton, squinting out at the horses.