“I’ll bet he would. Somewhat of a fool, this McCoy. His father is a tough old gunman, and they never got along. Oh, it’s a salty place up there. Some lone wolf held up the train the other night and got away with a fortune.”
“They did, eh?”
Hashknife paused and stared at Warren. Sleepy snorted softly, gazing disconsolately at his platter of food.
“Yuh bet they did,” said Warren. “One man pulled it all alone. Broke the train at Curlew Spur, took the engine and express car up the track a ways and blew the safe. I don’t know how much he got, but they say he got plenty.”
“Prob’ly,” nodded Hashknife, stirring his coffee with the handle of his knife.
“And they won’t catch him,” declared Warren. “Too many places to hide—and one man don’t talk, except to himself.”
“Prob’ly not,” said Hashknife absently.
“But that Eagle Saloon would be a mint if it was run right. Angel McCoy is all through. The fixtures are all first-class, and I could help yuh—yuh know what I mean. I know most everybody up there.
“Me and Angel always got along good. He had to turn me loose, because business was pretty bad. Not that I care a damn about Angel. He’s salty. His old man ain’t very well liked either. Got a bad reputation. Him and Angel never got along, And there’s a girl—sister of Angel’s. Name’s Lila. She just got back from school, I understand. She’s about twenty years old. I ain’t never met the lady, but I can say she’s a mighty pretty girl. I heard a rumor that she wasn’t Angel’s sister, and that she just found out that old Rance ain’t her father. Anyway, she had quit the ranch and was livin’ in town when I left there. They say Angel is stuck on her, but she’d be a fool to marry him. He’s crooked; and it don’t pay to play crooked in that town. Them cattlemen sabe poker, and they sure declare an open season on yuh the first time yuh make a break.”
“Pretty near time for the fall roundup, ain’t it?” asked Hashknife.