“What’s the idea?”
“It’s like this,” Hashknife wrinkled his nose away from the smoke of his cigaret. “In an honest court we could make Easton and his gang hard to catch, for rustlin’, but under the present conditions it’s only an excuse to kill somebody. If you can keep out of sight I’m bettin’ my hunch that we can wallop —— out of that gang. I ain’t no Sherlock Holmes, but I sure as —— have an idea.
“If you got an effect, you sure must ’a’ had a cause. Know what I mean?”
Hashknife pointed at the tombstones.
“There’s an effect, Lonesome.”
Lonesome nodded as if only half-understanding and looked at Hashknife.
“Where’s my daughter?”
“Never mind her, Lonesome. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, and dead men tell no tales. You’re supposed to be dead, you know.”
“All right. I ain’t goin’ to worry about her; but there’s a danged lot of things I don’t understand.”
“We’re all thataway, old-timer,” said Hashknife.