“All right,” Blue said dubiously. “You go and sleep f’r an hour or so, Hagen. This ain’t no blear-eyed job, y’betcha.”
“Make it longer’n that if you feel like it,” agreed Hagen. “Make it a week, and see if I git impatient.”
Easton and Hagen went back up the street toward the War-Bonnet. It was too early for Caldwell to be awake, and Easton wondered what old Lonesome Lee was doing out so early in the morning.
The old man was standing in front of the Paris restaurant, and for the first time in months he seemed to be sober.
“What in —— are you doing around so early?” questioned Easton as they came up to the old man.
“Just lookin’ around, thassall,” Lonesome Lee’s voice was very husky, but there was no trace of drunkeness left.
“Lookin’ around, eh? What for?”
“Just for instance.” The old man was a trifle belligerent.
This attitude did not please Spot Easton. He much preferred to have the old man whining for liquor.
“What’s biting you?” he snapped.