“Good guesser.”
“It can’t be more than nine o’clock, Sleepy. By golly, there ought to be somebody livin’ in this place-where-the-wind-comes-from.”
“If they’re all like that jigger we ran into back there, I don’t care about meetin’ ’em,” declared Sleepy. “Anyway, the tooth has quit hurtin’. I think the swellin’ busted when we stopped at the bridge. That engineer shore knows how to spike his mount’s tail to the earth!”
“There’s only three things that are botherin’ me,” said Hashknife. “One is: Why did that party take a shot at us? And the other two are my boots full of water.”
“And there’s another small matter,” said Sleepy flapping his arms dismally. “We ain’t taken any nourishment since this mornin’, Hashknife.”
“Yeah, there’s that small matter,” agreed Hashknife. “Oh, if yuh ever stop to check up on things, Sleepy, the world is all wrong. But never stop grinnin’ and look back. The only place yuh ever see ghosts is behind yuh.”
“Well, that wasn’t no ghost that snapped his gun at us.”
“He shore wasn’t, cowboy. That jigger was plumb alive. Well, I dunno but what we might as well keep circlin’. Eventually we’ll wear a trail, if we keep goin’ long enough. I wish I knew which was south.”
They sloshed away from the brush and headed down a slope.
“There’s a light!” exclaimed Sleepy. “Straight ahead.”