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"I'm unhappy too," said Racey's high-pitched little voice from the corner of the room. "I'm vrezy unhappy, and I do so want to det up." A sudden idea struck me. "You shall get up," I said. "I'm sure mother never would have wanted us to stay in bed hours after we were awake. Jump up, Racey, and Tom too; I'll dress you." Up jumped both boys with the greatest delight, and we set to work.
"Well, I'm obliged to you, Slimson. I'm shore a heap obliged to you. Is Swing Tunstall being taken care of all right?" "He's in Mike Flynn's house. Joy Blythe is a-nursin' him." "Then I ain't needed in Farewell right now." Racey's tone was casual. Rack Slimson rose to the bait immediately. "He's asking for you alla time," said he. "He is, is he? Why didn't you say so at first?"
He was reflectively stirring the grounds in the bottom of his sixth cup when a small and frightened yellow dog dashed into the restaurant and fled underneath Racey's table, where he cowered next to Racey's boots and cuddled a lop-eared head against Racey's knee.
For, his horse going into the air with great briskness at the impact of Racey's toe, even as the puncher had intended it should, he, Luke Tweezy, bit his tongue so hard that he wept involuntary tears of keenest anguish. "You stop that cussin'," resumed Racey, seizing the bridle short and yanking the bouncing horse to a standstill with a swerve and a jerk that almost unseated its rider.
You know what's what, and you know we'll take possession just as soon as the sheriff serves the eviction papers on you." At this Racey Dawson made a noise in his throat. Molly laid cool fingers on his wrist. "Steady, boy, steady," she whispered under her breath. Despite the seriousness of the moment Racey's heart skipped a beat and the pleasantest shiver in the world ran about his body.
But the lighted cigarette that, following his movement, slipped down Racey's back between his shirt collar and his neck did not pass unnoticed. Racey hopped up with a sharp exclamation and shucked himself out of his shirt with the utmost despatch. He did not stop at the shirt, but tore off his undershirt likewise. "Better luck than I hoped for," Swing remarked from a safe distance.
And you bet Old Salt will have a plenty big object in view in keeping out Lanpher and Tweezy. Money ain't tight now, anyway. I'll do the best I can for you. Don't you fret. You go on in now and square up with the women and I'll slide out to the Bar S instanter." Mr. Dale, the poor old man, laid a hand on Racey's strong young forearm. "I'll tell 'em," he said. "I'll tell 'em.
At which Racey's eyes narrowed slightly. But he made no comment. Pouring out a short drink, he passed the bottle to his comrade. When Swing had filled Racey took the bottle, drove home the cork with the heel of his hand, and carefully tucked away the bottle in the inner pocket of his vest. "It won't ride any too well," he observed to Swing, "but it ain't gonna be there a great while, I guess."
Swing clapped a hand over Racey's mouth and shoved him backward. "Shut up!" commanded Swing. "He dunno what he's talkin' about, the poor drunk." Thus did Swing Tunstall come up to the scratch right nobly. Racey could have hugged him. Instead he bit him. This in order that Swing should pull his hand away in a natural manner. Having achieved his purpose, Racey smiled sottishly at Luke Tweezy.
He reached across and patted her arm. "Yo're all right," he told her. "When we get out of this yo're going to marry me." Her free hand turned under his and clasped his fingers. S6 they rode for a space hand-in-hand. And Racey's heart was full. And so was hers. If they forgot for the moment what dread possibilities the future held who can blame them?
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