“Well, I reckon he could; but it ain’t hardly good business to ask a feller to pay fer service and not git it.”
“That’s a fact,” agreed Hashknife solemnly. “We was just wonderin’ if we could bunk in the hay t’night. I don’t admire to pay a hotel four-bits for a chance to read my shirt the next mornin’.”
“Sure, sure. The loft’s got plenty of room, or you can sleep in the grain-room. They’s a bunk in there and some blankets.”
“That’s right kind of you,” said Hashknife. “If we can help you— Say, if it ain’t too late to keep that date with your girl——”
“Whatcha mean?”
“Well, is there any reason why I can’t tend to that feller’s horse? Ain’t no trouble to cinch a hull on a bronc. Course I wouldn’t take his money——”
“Thassall right, I got his money in advance. It ain’t no saddle-horse, though. If you don’t mind hitchin’ a horse to a buggy ——”
“Cinch,” grunted Hashknife. “Show me the horse and buggy, pardner.”
It took the man about a minute to point out the horse, harness and buggy. It was the tall, bay horse which Easton had driven from Caldwell. The stable-man was voluble in his thanks, and hurried away to keep his date. Hashknife and Sleepy grinned at each other as they sat down to wait for Easton’s return.