“Well,” Skelton scratched his head and looked up at Sleepy and Hashknife, who were standing in the doorway. “Well, this seems kinda queer t’ me.”
Lonesome looked up at Hashknife.
“I reckon you’re the man I wanted to see. ’Member me havin’ a letter the other day?”
Hashknife nodded.
“I—I kinda wanted to know what was in it,” said Lonesome slowly. “I sobered up ’specially for——”
Came the whining pluk! of a bullet and Lonesome Lee jerked back a half-step, threw one hand to his face and buckled forward at the knees.
Hashknife dove forward, grasped the old man in his arms and fairly fell through the doorway with him. Another bullet bit into the door-casing, and Skelton and Sleepy dove in behind Hashknife. Another bullet pinged in through the door and ricocheted off the cook-stove before Skelton kicked the door shut.
Hashknife picked Lonesome Lee off the floor and laid him on the bed. The old man’s face was a mass of gore and he was cursing wickedly, deliriously; fighting to get back to his feet.
“Like a chicken with its head cut plumb off!” gasped Sleepy.
“Lay still!” snapped Hashknife, dodging Lonesome’s kicking legs. “That bullet knocked, but didn’t come in.”