“You take the lead, Slim,” he said. “Take us to that dead horse.”
“All right. It’ll be kinda slow goin’ in the dark, but it’ll be daylight by the time we get there. Got to swing wide of the river on account of the breaks. We can eat breakfast at the Lazy B, if yuh want to.”
“We’ll look at the horse first, Slim. We may not get any breakfast.”
“That’s the worst of bein’ pardner to a man who is so durned curious he’ll get up in the middle of the night to hunt for a dead horse,” said Sleepy.
They were obliged to travel slowly, and the cold morning wind caused Sleepy to swear at his wet feet. He was uncomfortable, and didn’t care who knew it. The stars faded, and a rosy glow in the east proclaimed the coming of daylight.
Slim knew the country well, and had little difficulty in locating the correct coulee. A coyote streaked out through the brush and went loping off across the hills. He wasn’t a bit curious about these cowboys. They often carried rifles, and were not a bit particular which coyote they shot at.
They found the carcass, and Hashknife did not take long in his examination. The other two men sat on their horses some distance away, holding Hashknife’s horse. He came back and climbed into his saddle.
“Shall we go to the Lazy B and eat?” asked Slim.
Hashknife shook his head.
“No time to eat, Slim. Is there a place where we can cross the river down here?”