The sheriff glanced keenly at Hashknife’s eyes and decided to drop the subject.
“Oh, all right,” he said. “Yuh might come along and help us take the body out.”
“Yeah, I might,” said Hashknife. “But I don’t think I will. You’ve got plenty men with yuh.”
“Uh-huh.” Kelsey did not press the invitation, but rode away, followed by his three men.
Honey Bee grinned widely and did a shuffle in the dirt.
“That’s tellin’ ’em, cowboy. You’ve got Kelsey’s goat. I could see it in his face.”
“Let’s go down to the bunk-house,” suggested Hashknife. “Them darned girls ask too many questions. I reckon they suspect that this man was killed at that hold-up, and I don’t want to worry Peggy any more. She takes it too serious. By golly, she acts as though folks blamed her for what Joe Rich has done.”
“That’s Peggy,” sighed Honey. “Whitest little girl that ever lived. Suppose we have a three-handed game of seven-up for a million dollars a corner.”
“You two go ahead,” said Hashknife. “I’ve got to think a while.”
“Don’t yore head ever hurt yuh?” asked Honey. “You’ve done an awful lot of thinkin’ since I knew yuh, Hashknife.”