On the way back to the office, Roaring told Hashknife that the judge had asked him to walk home with him.“He’s scared to death,” declared Roaring. “Personally, I don’t think they’ll harm him. I don’t think they’d ’a’ hurt Jim Randall, but he didn’t wait to see.”“Time will tell,” said Hashknife. “The old judge has a right to be nervous.”They went back to the office, where Wind River Jim was changing the bandage on his sore head. Hashknife sat down at the sheriff’s desk and rolled a smoke, while Roaring assisted Wind River Jim with his bandage. There were several sheets of writing paper on the desk, bearing the letterhead of the sheriff’s office. Hashknife picked one of them up in his hand and looked through it. Across the bottom of the sheet was the watermark—Fordhill Bond.He dropped the sheet of paper back on the desk and lighted his cigaret.“I’d like to get a line on the jigger that knocked on my temple,” growled Wind River Jim. “It shore aches me.”“What does Pete think of the trial?” asked Hashknife.“Sore about it.”Roaring pinned the end of the bandage and came back to the desk.“He testified today. Ryker tried to get him mad. I don’t think the jury believed Pete’s story. He admitted he wanted to shoot Mallette. He put up a good argument. Ryker wanted to know why he wanted to kill Mallette, and if he didn’t know it would be murder; and Pete asked him if it was murder to kill a horsethief. He said that Mallette stole his money, and that stealin’ was stealin’; and, by golly, the judge agreed with him, I think! You see, he’s bein’ tried for first-degree murder, and if that knot-headed jury brings in a verdict of guilty, it’s up to the judge to soak him awful hard. He can either hang Pete or give him life.”“If somebody don’t shoot the judge between now and the time he’s supposed to pass sentence,” said Roaring dryly.“I don’t think they will,” said Hashknife. “There’s other things to think about.”Hashknife didn’t tell them what he meant, but went back to the hotel to relieve Horse-Collar Fields. Sleepy was in good spirits, much better than Hashknife expected him to be.“How’s it comin’, cowboy?” asked Sleepy.“I’m just about to sing me a little song,” replied Hashknife, and Sleepy knew what that song meant.Hashknife did not have a particularly melodious voice and seldom did he lift his voice in song, except when a puzzle was working out to his satisfaction.“And me flat in bed,” wailed Sleepy. “But go easy, pardner. You can see just how easy it is for to go down and out. I never had no warnin’. I felt it slap me down, but I never heard the shot. It hurts worse now than it has any time. The doctor says it’s healin’ up fine. You’ll go easy, won’t you, Hashknife?”“If you need help, call on Horse-Collar and Lovely. They’re the biggest liars that ever saw the sun come up, but they’re on the square.”“Dang the luck, I want to ride with you. Can’t you put it off for a week or so? The doctor says I’ll be able to ride in a week or ten days, if I wear a wide belt.”“You lay still and take it easy. Get well, cowboy. I shore miss you. Ain’t had nobody crabbin’ at me for two days, and it ain’t natural. And I’m not goin’ to get hurt. Can you eat anythin’?”“Soup!”“All right. I’ll git a tray of grub at the restaurant, and a bowl of soup. We’ll eat up here and, by golly, I’ll stay here until daylight. I’m as scared as the judge was. I’ll find Horse-Collar Fields and ask him to come agin’ tomorrow morning.”
On the way back to the office, Roaring told Hashknife that the judge had asked him to walk home with him.
“He’s scared to death,” declared Roaring. “Personally, I don’t think they’ll harm him. I don’t think they’d ’a’ hurt Jim Randall, but he didn’t wait to see.”
“Time will tell,” said Hashknife. “The old judge has a right to be nervous.”
They went back to the office, where Wind River Jim was changing the bandage on his sore head. Hashknife sat down at the sheriff’s desk and rolled a smoke, while Roaring assisted Wind River Jim with his bandage. There were several sheets of writing paper on the desk, bearing the letterhead of the sheriff’s office. Hashknife picked one of them up in his hand and looked through it. Across the bottom of the sheet was the watermark—Fordhill Bond.
He dropped the sheet of paper back on the desk and lighted his cigaret.
“I’d like to get a line on the jigger that knocked on my temple,” growled Wind River Jim. “It shore aches me.”
“What does Pete think of the trial?” asked Hashknife.
“Sore about it.”
Roaring pinned the end of the bandage and came back to the desk.
“He testified today. Ryker tried to get him mad. I don’t think the jury believed Pete’s story. He admitted he wanted to shoot Mallette. He put up a good argument. Ryker wanted to know why he wanted to kill Mallette, and if he didn’t know it would be murder; and Pete asked him if it was murder to kill a horsethief. He said that Mallette stole his money, and that stealin’ was stealin’; and, by golly, the judge agreed with him, I think! You see, he’s bein’ tried for first-degree murder, and if that knot-headed jury brings in a verdict of guilty, it’s up to the judge to soak him awful hard. He can either hang Pete or give him life.”
“If somebody don’t shoot the judge between now and the time he’s supposed to pass sentence,” said Roaring dryly.
“I don’t think they will,” said Hashknife. “There’s other things to think about.”
Hashknife didn’t tell them what he meant, but went back to the hotel to relieve Horse-Collar Fields. Sleepy was in good spirits, much better than Hashknife expected him to be.
“How’s it comin’, cowboy?” asked Sleepy.
“I’m just about to sing me a little song,” replied Hashknife, and Sleepy knew what that song meant.
Hashknife did not have a particularly melodious voice and seldom did he lift his voice in song, except when a puzzle was working out to his satisfaction.
“And me flat in bed,” wailed Sleepy. “But go easy, pardner. You can see just how easy it is for to go down and out. I never had no warnin’. I felt it slap me down, but I never heard the shot. It hurts worse now than it has any time. The doctor says it’s healin’ up fine. You’ll go easy, won’t you, Hashknife?”
“If you need help, call on Horse-Collar and Lovely. They’re the biggest liars that ever saw the sun come up, but they’re on the square.”
“Dang the luck, I want to ride with you. Can’t you put it off for a week or so? The doctor says I’ll be able to ride in a week or ten days, if I wear a wide belt.”
“You lay still and take it easy. Get well, cowboy. I shore miss you. Ain’t had nobody crabbin’ at me for two days, and it ain’t natural. And I’m not goin’ to get hurt. Can you eat anythin’?”
“Soup!”
“All right. I’ll git a tray of grub at the restaurant, and a bowl of soup. We’ll eat up here and, by golly, I’ll stay here until daylight. I’m as scared as the judge was. I’ll find Horse-Collar Fields and ask him to come agin’ tomorrow morning.”