Hashknife laughed and dropped to his knees, crawling beneath the sidewalk trying to reach the ball.
“Lemme help yuh, mister,” said the boy who owned the ball.
“I can get it,” said Hashknife.
He picked it up and handed it absently back to the boy. In the accumulated litter of old playing-cards, miscellaneous pieces of paper and the general débris, his eyes caught sight of a certain piece of paper.
“Can’tcha git out?” asked the boy who had the ball.
Hashknife backed out. He had forgotten the boys. In his hand was a folded piece of paper, which he unfolded and read carefully. It was Jim Wheeler’s copy of the note on which he had borrowed the money from Ed Merrick.
“Now, how in ⸺ did that get under there?” wondered Hashknife. He studied the situation. Close to this spot was the hitch-rack.
“He got on his horse at that rack,” said Hashknife to himself. “He thought he put the note in his pocket, but didn’t; and the wind blew it under the sidewalk. No wonder he didn’t have the note when they found him.”
He folded the note and put it carefully in his pocket. The two youngsters were watching him closely, possibly wondering what he had found. Hashknife stared at them for a moment, and a grin came to his lips as he dug down in his pocket and drew out two quarters.
“You boys buy yoreselves some candy,” he said, giving them the money.