“Who is—Honey?”
“Na-a-aw—Stevens! Honey’s second.”
“And I’m third,” grinned Hashknife.”
“Sure,” said Sleepy. “Wong Lee don’t count, because he’s a Chinaman.”
“I’m glad one entry is scratched. There goes the sheriff and his hired hand.”
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 makin’ 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.”