“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.”
“He has to think an awful lot to get a little ways,” grinned Sleepy.
Sleepy and Honey went into the bunk-house, and Laura wig-wagged to Hashknife from the veranda of the ranch-house.
“What about this dead man?” she demanded.
“Dunno yet, Laura. He’s dead, but we don’t know what killed him.”
He told her about the missing brakeman. Laura had been doing a little thinking, and she confided to Hashknife that she was afraid that Jim Wheeler had been killed by the man who stole the money.
“Aunt Emma thinks so, too,” she said. “We had a talk about it the other day. Joe was out here that day, you know. He came to tell Peggy good-by. His lips were cut badly and he looked awful bad. But Peggy didn’t tell him good-by. She was crying and didn’t hear him go away. She thought he was still there. We found out later that Uncle Jim had knocked Joe down on the street in Pinnacle City.”