Mr. Blue seemed to discover Hashknife for the first time. He masticated his tobacco rapidly and glanced at Skelton.
“Howaboutcha?”
Skelton told in a few words, while more folks came and looked at the dead man.
“Where’d you come from?” asked the sheriff, looking at Hashknife.
“Recently?”
“Yeah.”
“Tombstone ranch.”
“I mean—before that.”
Hashknife snapped his cigaret away and leaned back in his saddle.
“I was borned in Pecos, Texas, about thirty-two years ago——”