Len Kelsey and Jack Ralston rode past, heading for the old bridge.
“Reckon they didn’t have very good luck,” observed Sleepy. “That must ’a’ been Joe Rich we almost ran into in the rain. He was just making his getaway, eh?”
“Looks thataway, Sleepy. Mebbe we should ’a’ told the sheriff about it.”
“That wouldn’t help him any; yuh can’t foller horse tracks.”
“No, yuh can’t,” agreed Hashknife, getting up. “I reckon we better go down and see how many ridin’ rigs there are on this place, and pick out a horse.”
“Yuh mean to stay here a while, Hashknife?”
“It ain’t an unpleasant place, is it?”
“No-o-o, but⸺”
“Yuh didn’t hope to catch that train, didja?”
“The cattle-train? Certainly not.”