“Well, all right. Go kinda tender on that pinnacle, cowboy. She’s shore a blood-brother to a boil.”
Hashknife fixed up Slim’s head and then went up to the ranch-house, where he called Honey outside.
“We won’t be here for breakfast,” he told Honey. “Me and Sleepy and Slim are goin’ to take a ride early in the mornin’; sabe? They’re holdin’ that inquest at two o’clock in the afternoon. You hitch up the buggy team in the mornin’ and take the girls to town. Tell ’em I said for ’em to go, Honey. Be there for the inquest.”
“But what for, Hashknife?”
“Just for fun, Honey. Good night.”
“You’ll be at the inquest, won’t yuh?”
“Sure, I’m the main witness.”
It was an hour before daylight when Hashknife, Sleepy and Slim Coleman rode away from the HJ. Slim’s head was a little sore, but the swelling was reduced. Sleepy protested against such an early start; which was the natural thing for him to do, especially since he didn’t know where they were going.
They forded the river below the bridge—much to Sleepy’s disgust. He got one boot full of water.
“Bridge is too narrow,” said Hashknife, “and there’s too much brush on the other side of it.”