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"Shore must be a sound sleeper," said Racey Dawson to himself, "if he really did just wake up." He buckled on his gunbelt, set his hat a-tilt on one ear, and went down to wash his face and hands in the common basin on the wash-bench outside the kitchen door. But Swing Tunstall was before him, and was disposed to make an issue of the dropped boots.
Even at that distance Peaches could see that there was no life in the third man. "That's Doc Coffin," Racey murmured without rancour. "I wonder where they're taking him? He used to bach with Nebraska Jones, didn't he? I guess that's where they're taking him to. Yep, they've gone round the corner of the stage company's corral." "Where's Honey?" queried Peaches in a still, small voice.
"I'm sure your uncle wouldn't let her." "Will you turn early, kite early?" Racey begged. "Yes, that I can promise you," she answered. But I too had some last words. "Miss Goldy-hair," I said, "you told me you wouldn't tell Uncle Geoff?" "Not without your leave, dear, I said," she replied. "But don't you think it would be better to tell him? Won't you trust me to tell him?" "But not Mrs.
He placed the tips of his fingers together, leaned back in his chair, and stared at Racey between the eyebrows. "McFluke?" he repeated. "I don't know the name." "I mean the murderer Jack Harpe sent to you to be taken care of," explained Racey. Mr. Pooley continued to stare. For a long moment he made no comment. Then he said, "Still, I don't know the name."
Racey gave him a circumstantial account of the shooting and the incidents that had led up to it. The Judge heard him through without a word. "They asked for it," said he, when Racey made an end. "'Sfunny Punch didn't pick up a hand. Tell you what you do, Racey: You come to my office in about a hour. Nothing to do with this business. I got no fault to find with what you done.
"Looks like they got back mighty soon from chasing the stranger," said Racey, when they came in sight of the place, eying the number of horses tied to the hitching-rail. "Maybe they got him quick," Mr. Saltoun offered, sardonically. They rode on and added their horses to the tail-switching string in front of the saloon.
A lot of good they'd done you there. A lot of good. Oh, yo're bright, Racey. I'd tell a man that, I would." Racey, walking suddenly round the corner of the Dale stable, came upon Mr. Dale tilting a bottle toward the sky. The business end of the bottle was inserted between Mr. Dale's lips. His Adam's apple slid gravely up and down. He did not see Racey Dawson. "Howdy," said the puncher. Mr.
"How you feel?" "Pretty good considering." "Close squeak considerin'." "Yes," said she in a small voice, "it was a close squeak. You you saved my life, Racey." "Shucks," he said, much embarrassed, "that wasn't anythin' I mean you you know what I mean." "Surely, I know what you mean. All the same, you saved my life.
"She's gonna stick." "She must. Hell, yes. Those papers of Luke's are forged. I know they are." "So does everybody else," put in Tom Loudon, "but if something don't turn up damn quick " He broke off, shaking a dubious head. "Something will," declared Racey, making his bluff a second time with an air of supreme confidence. "You know something, Racey," prodded Mr.
"You can take it she's both," Racey told him. "You hear that, Luke?" Lanpher turned to Luke Tweezy. "Threatenin' my life, huh?" "Shore," nodded Luke Tweezy. "Actionable, that is. Mustn't threaten a man's life, Racey. Against the law, you know." Racey moved to one side and leaned his back comfortably against the wall. "Against the law, huh, Luke?" he said nervously. "Then I can be arrested?"
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