“Well, what do yuh propose doin’?” asked Kelsey.
“Keep looking for Joe Rich, I suppose. You say he’s got a lot of friends around here?”
Kelsey nodded glumly, remembering how the cowboys had avoided riding after Joe.
“Yeah, yuh can’t expect much help, Cates. They’ll all spot yuh—and these cowpunchers can shore be clams.”
“Oh, I’m not going out to hunt him,” smiled Cates. “I’d be a fool to do that. When you boys can’t find him—what could I do? I don’t know this country. Why, I haven’t been on a horse for fifteen years!
“Nope,” Cates sighed deeply. “This is no job for a man like me. What this needs is a man like Hashknife Hartley.”
“Hashknife Hartley?”
Kelsey pricked up his ears and took his feet off the desk. Jack Ralston showed proper interest.
Cates nodded slowly as he bit the end off a cigar.
“Yes, he might do something with it. Ever hear of him?”