A flurry of rain obliterated the light, but it flickered again.
“Light in a winder,” said Sleepy. “Must be a house.”
“Must be,” agreed Hashknife dryly. “Windows don’t usually occur without a house in connection.”
They struck a corral fence, followed it around to the stable and then headed for the house. It was the HJ ranch. But these two cowboys were far too wise to walk right up to a strange house in the dark, especially after having been shot at so recently; so they sidled up to the house and took a look through the window.
It was a side window of the living-room, and in the room were Peggy Wheeler, Laura Hatton and Honey Bee. It was evident to Hashknife and Sleepy that the living-room roof had sprung a leak and the three people were making an earnest endeavor to catch the water in a wash-tub, dishpan and numerous other receptacles.
A long dry period had warped the old shingles of the ranch-house to such an extent that they leaked like a sieve.
“Looks like a harmless place,” observed Hashknife.
“And not a ⸺ of a lot of advantage over bein’ outside,” said Sleepy. “Anyway, they look awful human.”
They walked around to the front door, clumped up the steps and knocked on the door. Honey Bee answered the knock by opening the door about six inches and peering out.
“We just wondered if yuh didn’t need a couple of good men to fix yore roof,” said Hashknife seriously.