“You always kind of go out of your way to bother into other folks’ troubles. Every danged place we go you gets into some dang kind of a mixup, and she’s always because you feel sorry fer somebody. If it was only you I’d say for you to go to it and grab a tombstone but, blast it all, you always drags me into it.”
Sleepy stopped for lack of breath and glared at Hashknife.
“Yes sir,” nodded Hashknife slowly, “just suppose you was a brother to that girl. It’s thirty miles; which is some ride in the dark.”
“Hey!” yelled Skelton from the kitchen. “You jaspers like gravy with your spuds?”
“You spoke my daily prayer,” yelled Hashknife.
Sleepy got to his feet and stretched his arms.
“I hope that train don’t get in so early that we’ll have to hold up Spot Easton on the road. I had a sister, Hashknife, and I know what you mean.”
It was nine o’clock when Hashknife and Sleepy rode into Gunsight, and the night was as dusky as the proverbial black cat. Gunsight was quite a bit larger than Caldwell and a trifle more modern, owing to the railroad which made it a shipping point for the surrounding country.
They dismounted at a hitch-rack and tied their horses.