apparel to another. 'I'm lookin' around for th' fellers that robbed th' bank last night. Yore clothes don't hardly look dusty enough, though. Where was you last night, up to about one o'clock?'
'Down in th' barroom, playin' cards. Why?'
'That's what Ed says, too. That accounts for you durin' an' after th' robbery. I've got to look around, anyhow, for them coyotes.'
'You'd show more sense if you was lookin' around for hoss tracks instead of wastin' time in here,' retorted Johnny, keeping his head turned so the peace officer could not see what was left of the bump.
'There ain't none,' growled Corwin, arising. 'She's still blowin' sand a-plenty—a couple of shacks are buried to their chimneys. I'm tellin' you this is th' worst sand storm that ever hit this town, but it looks like it's easin' up now. There won't be a trail left, an' th' scenery has shifted enough by this time to look like some place else. Idaho turn in when you did?'
'He did. Here he is now,' replied Johnny, for the first time really conscious of the sand blasts which rasped against the windows.
Idaho peered around the door, nodded at Corwin and looked curious, and suspicious. 'If I ain't wanted, throw me out,' he said, holding up his trousers with one hand, the other held behind his back. 'Hearin' voices, I thought mebby somebody was openin' a private flask an', bein' thirsty, I come over to help. My throat is shore dusty. An' would you listen to that wind? It shore rocked this old hotel last night. Th' floor of my room is near ankle deep in places.'
'Th' bank was robbed last night,' blurted Corwin, watching keenly from under his hat brim. 'Whoever done it is still in town, unless he was a cussed fool!'
Idaho grunted his surprise. 'That so? Gee, they shore couldn't 'a' picked a better time,' he declared. 'Gosh, there's sand in my hair, even!'
Johnny rubbed his scalp, looked mildly surprised and slammed his sombrero on his head. 'It ain't polite,' he grinned, 'but I got enough of it now.' He sat up, crossed his legs under the sand-covered blankets and faced his visitors. 'Tell us about it, Sheriff,' he suggested.
'Wait till I get a belt,' said Idaho, backing out of the door. When he returned he carried the rest of his clothes and started getting into them as the sheriff began his recital.
'John Reddy, th' bank watchman, says he was a little careless last night, which nobody can hardly blame him for. He sat in his chair agin' the rear wall, th' whole place under his eyes, an' listened to th' storm. To kill time he got to makin' bets with hisself about how soon th' second crack in th' floor would be covered over, an' then th' third, an' so on. 'Long about a little after twelve he says he hears a moan at th' back door. He pulls his gun an' listens close, down at th' crack just above th' sand drift. Then he hears it again, an' a scratchin' an clawin'. There's only one thing he's thinkin' about then—how he'd feel if he was th' poor devil out there, lost an' near dead. I allus said a watchman should ought to have no feelin's, an' a cussed strong imagination. John ain't fillin' th' bill either way. He cleared away th' drift on his side of th' door an' opens it—an' beyond rememberin' somethin' sandy jumpin' for him, that's all he knows till he come to later on an' found hisself tied up, with a welt on th' head that felt big as a doorknob.'
If the sheriff expected to detect any interchange of glances between his auditors at his reference to the watchman's bump on the head he was disappointed. Johnny was looking at him with a frank interest seconded by that of Idaho, and neither did anything else during the short pause.
'John got his senses back enough to know what had happened, an' one glance around told him that he was right,' continued Corwin. 'Finally he managed to get his legs loose enough to hobble, an' he butted out into th' flyin' sand with his eyes shut an' his nose buried agin' his shoulder so he could breathe; an' somehow he managed to hit a buildin' in his blind driftin'. It was McNeil's, an' by throwin' his weight agin' th' door an' buttin' it with his shoulders an' elbows, he woke up Sam, who let him in, untied his arms an' th' rest of him, fixed him up as well as he could in a hurry an' then left him there. Sam got Pete Jennings, next door, sent Pete an' a scatter-gun to watch over what was left in th' bank, an' then started out to find me. He had to give it up till it got light, so he waited in th' bank with Pete. Th' bank fellers are there now, checkin' up. Th' big, burglar-proof safe was blowed open neat as a whistle— but they plumb ruined th' little one. They overlooked th' biggest of all, down in th' cellar. Well,' he sighed, arising, 'I got to go on with my callin'—an' it's one fine day to be wanderin' all over town.'
'If I was sheriff I wouldn't have to do much wanderin',' said Idaho. 'But, anyhow, it can't last,' he grinned.
Johnny nodded endorsement 'Th' harder, th' shorter. It's gettin' less all th' time,' he said, pivoting and sitting on the edge of the bed. 'But, just th' same,' he yawned, stretching ecstatically, 'I'm shore-e-e—g-l-a-d I can stay indoors till she peters out. Yo're plumb right, Corwin; them fellers never left town last night. An' if I was you I'd be cussed suspicious of anybody that seemed anxious to leave any time today.'
'They never did leave town last night,' said Idaho, a strange glint showing in his eyes.
'An' nobody can leave today, neither.' said Corwin.
'If they try it they will be stopped,' he added, pointedly. 'I've got a deputy coverin' every way out, sand or no sand. So-long,' and he tramped down the bare stairs, grumbling at every step.
Johnny removed his hat to put on his shirt, and then replaced it. 'You speakin' about sand in yore hair gave me what I needed,' he grinned.
'That's why I said it,' laughed his companion. 'I saw that yore neck was stiff an' felt sorry for you. Now what th' devil do you think about that bank?'
'Kane,' grunted Johnny, pouring sand from a boot.
'That name must 'a' been cut on th' butt of th' gun that hit you,' chuckled Idaho. 'It's been drove in solid. Get a rustle on; I'm hungry, an' my teeth are full of sand. I'm anxious to hear what Ed knows.'
An unpleasant and gritty breakfast out of the way, they went in to visit with the bartender and to while away a few hours at California Jack.
'Hello,' grunted Ed. 'Sheriff come pokin' his face in
'He did,' answered Johnny; 'an' he'll never know how close he come to pokin' it into his own funeral.'
'My boot just missed him,' regretted Ed. 'He sung out right prompt when he felt th' wind of it. Blamed four- flush.'
'I'm among friends an' sympathizers,' chuckled Idaho. 'He says as how he's goin' wanderin' around in th' sand blasts doin' his duty. Duty nothin'! I'm bettin' he's settin' in Kane's, right now, takin' it easy.'
'Then he can't get much closer to 'em,' snorted Ed. 'He can near touch th' men that did it.' He paused as Johnny laughed in Idaho's face and, shrugging his shoulders, turned and rearranged the glasses on the backbar: 'All right; laugh an' be darned!' he snorted; 'but would you look at that shelf an' them glasses? Cuss any country that moves around like that. I bet I got some of them Dry Arroyo sand hills in them glasses!'
'There was plenty in th' hash this mornin',' said Idaho; 'but it didn't taste like that Dry Arroyo sand. It wasn't salty enough. Gimme a taste of that.'
'Just because you'll make a han'some corpse ain't no reason why you should be in any hurry,' retorted Ed 'Here!' he snorted, tossing a pack of cards on the bar. 'Go over an' begin th' wranglin' agin—'though th' Lord knows I ain't got nothin' agin' Nelson.' He glanced out of the window. 'Purty near blowed out. It'll be ca'm in another half- hour; an' then you get to blazes out of here, an' stay out till dark!'
'I wish I had yore happy disposition,' said Idaho. 'I'd shore blow my brains out.'
'There wouldn't be anythin' to clean up, anyhow!' retorted Ed. 'Lord help us, here comes Silent Lewis!'
'Hello, fellers!' cried the newcomer. 'Gee but it's been some storm. Sand's all over everythin'. Hear about th' bank robbery?'
'Bank robbery?' queried Ed, innocently. 'What bank robbery? Sand bank?' he asked, sarcastically.
'Sand bank! Sand bank nothin'!' blurted Silent. 'Ain't you heard it yet? Why, I live ten miles out of town, an' I know all about it.'
'I believe every word you say,' said Ed. 'Tell us about it.'
'Gee, where have you-all been?' demanded Silent 'Why, John Reddy, settin' on his chair, watchin' th' safe, hears a moanin', so he opened th' door—'
'Of th' safe?' asked Idaho, curiously.
'No, no; of th' bank. Th' bank door, th' rear one. He hears a moan—'
'Which moan; first, or second?' queried Ed, anxiously.
'Th' first—th' second didn't come till—hey, I thought you didn't hear about it?' he accused.
