“Well, it—it can’t be helped, Sleepy. It would take a long time to hunt down a horse-thief in this country. We’ll rest up until tomorrow and then head for Arizona.”
“We will like hell! We’ll head for the Half-Box R ranch and find out who owns that crowbait.”
Hashknife smiled thoughtfully at Sleepy. “You ain’t just tryin’ to play the game back at me, are yuh?”
“Not a bit.”
“Well, I’m really glad, Sleepy. It’s time we quit foolin’ around. We’re gettin’ old, me and you; kinda mellow. Why, a few years ago, I’d ’a’ started out after that horse-thief on foot. But I’m slowin’ up, I tell yuh.”
“Yea-a-ah, I’ll betcha. You’ll prob’ly kiss him when we find him. Trade yore gun for a cane, grandpa. Let’s go and get us a drink.”
Welcome was a smaller town than Red Arrow, and it did not take the stable-man long to spread the news that somebody had stolen a horse from one of the strange cowboys.
A number of people went down to look at the Half-Box R horse, but none of them seemed to be able to tell who owned it. Butch Reimer was well known in Welcome, and as far as Hashknife was able to find out, he bore a fairly good reputation as a cattleman.
The thief had been thoughtful enough to take his own saddle, which was something for Hashknife to be thankful for, as his saddle had been made to order. There was no further news of the robbery, although they heard several people discussing it during the day.
They spent the day playing pool, which was a favorite diversion with both of them. During one of the games Sleepy grew thoughtful, which was unusual with him.