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"And he ain't boiling along quite as fast now as he was in the wash," elaborated Racey. "I noticed that, too," admitted Mr. Saltoun. They waited, barring the trail. Punch-the-breeze Thompson did not attempt to ride around them. He pulled up and nodded easily to the two men. "They's been a fraycas down at McFluke's," Thompson said. "Fraycas?" Racey cocked an eyebrow.
Below him on his right sat Ferguson that prince of plotters very busy with pen and ink, his keen face almost hidden by his great periwig; opposite were Lord Grey, of Werke, and Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun, whilst, standing at the foot of the table barely within the circle of candlelight from the branch on the polished oak, was Nathaniel Wade, the lawyer, who had fled to Holland on account of his alleged complicity in the Rye House plot and was now returned a major in the Duke's service.
"Well, but " interrupted Mr. Saltoun, beginning to fidget with his reins. "And the time Cutnose Canter tried to run off a whole herd of hosses on you?" Racey breezed on, warming to his subject. "You wouldn't let Chuck warn you. Oh, no, not you. He didn't know what he was talking about. No, he didn't. And how did it turn out, huh? What did that li'l party cost you?
I beat you over those forgeries." "Yes, indeed," she said. "I can beat all the men in your Duke's service. Every one. Even clever Colonel Lane. Even Fletcher of Saltoun. But a boy is so unexpected, there's no beating a boy, except with a good birch rod. You beat me so often, Martin, that I think you can afford to forgive me for tricking you once in bringing you here."
The latter did not return the wink. He kept a sober gaze fastened on Racey Dawson. Racey was staring at Mr. Saltoun. His eyes began to narrow. "Meanin'?" he drawled. "Now don't go crawlin' round huntin' offense where none's meant," advised Mr. Saltoun. "But you know how it is yoreself, Racey.
Then Harry Fisher showed the finer side of his impetuosity. He made a sudden movement as if to shake hands. "You're a sport," he said, "and I'll back you up, if nobody else will. But we can all back you up, can't we? I see what Lord Saltoun means, and, of course, he's right. He's always right." "So I will go down to Somerset," said Horne Fisher.
"I don't think it would spoil his appetite any. You remember how fast he was pelting along down in the wash, and how he slowed up after seeing us? A murderer would act just thataway." Mr. Saltoun nodded. "A gent can't do anything on guesswork," he said, bromidically. "Facts are what count."
We all just didn't like the way the stranger went at it, so I'm going to Farewell after the sheriff." "Yo're holdin' the stranger then, I take it?" put in Mr. Saltoun. "Well, no, not exactly," replied Thompson. "He got away, that stranger did." "And didn't none of you make any try at stopping him a-tall?" demanded Racey. "Plenty," Thompson replied with a stony face.
The patriotic Fletcher of Saltoun drew a picture of these banditti about a century ago, which my readers will peruse with astonishment. These are not only no way advantageous, but a very grievous burden to so poor a country.
And up to now I can't see that Jack Harpe has made a move, not a move." "But " "Lanpher and Tweezy wasn't in the bet," insisted Mr. Saltoun. "It was Jack Harpe, and you know it. 'If Jack Harpe don't start trying to get Dale's ranch away from him and run cattle in on you inside of six months you don't have to pay us. Them was yore very words, Racey. I got 'em wrote down all so careful.
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