From inside the room came a creaking noise and a crash, as if a bin-cover had been slammed down. Then the door opened and Hashknife and Sleepy stepped out.
“Howdy, ma’am,” said Hashknife politely. “Are you Miss Lee?”
“Why, yes. I—I—where is Mr. Easton?”
“Easton? O-o-o-oh, yeah. He’s in the oat-bin, ma’am.”
“I do not understand you.” The girl seemed puzzled.
“Harness the horse, Sleep,” commanded Hashknife. “This lady’s got to find a place to sleep.”
Sleepy gleefully brought out the horse and backed it into the buggy-shafts. Jane Lee stared at the tall cowboy beside her, and wondered at the mystery of it all.
“You drive the rig, Sleep,” ordered Hashknife. “I’ll bring your bronc along with me.”
“But,” objected the girl, “I—I—Mr. Easton is going to take me to my father’s ranch.”
“Was,” corrected Hashknife. “He’s goin’ to sleep with one of his hired men tonight, so we made him let us take you home.”