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Updated: June 27, 2025
"That ain't a reason, no good reason, anyway. I'm telling you flat, y' understand, that so long as we gotta take root here instead of going to Arizona like we'd planned it out so long's yo're gonna renig on the play like I say, the best thing we can do is string our chips with Jack Harpe's." "That yore idea of a bright thing to do, huh?" questioned Racey, his nimble fingers busy with the rawhide.
Somehow I wouldn't have liked her to hear our name for the young lady, and I told him he wasn't to say it to anybody but Tom and me perhaps the young lady wouldn't like it. Racey said nothing, but I noticed he didn't say it again before Sarah. He was a queer little boy in some ways.
He was all of that. And he was fairly quick on the draw as well. It would seem that, taking into consideration the position of Thompson's right hand, that Thompson had a shade the better of it. Racey thought so. But he hoped, nevertheless, by shooting through the bottom of his holster, to plant at least one bullet in Thompson before the latter killed him. The decision lay with Thompson.
He heard nothing, and tiptoed along the wall to the window of the room next the kitchen. The ground plan of the house was almost an exact square. There was a room in each angle. The office, which Racey knew contained the safe, was diagonally across from the kitchen. Racey, halting at the window of the room next the kitchen, was somewhat surprised to find it open.
"I have some money," I said, "I have three shillings, and two sixpences, and seven pennies, besides my gold pound." "And I have some too, and so has Racey," said Tom. "Yes, I have a s'illing, and a dear little fourpenny, and three halfpennies," said Racey, running to fetch his purse. "I've more than that," said Tom in a melancholy tone of voice, "but it's no good. How can we buy anything?
"You here," said he, softly. "I didn't see you at first. I must be getting nearsighted. You saw the whole thing, did you, Lanpher?" "Yeah," replied Lanpher. "Who pulled first?" "The stranger." The answer came patly from at least five different men. Racey looked grimly upon those present. "Most everybody seems shore the stranger's to blame," he observed.
Racey, attending strictly to his knitting, bored Honey Hoke with a bullet that removed the top of the second knuckle of Honey's right hand, shaved a piece from the wrist bone, and then proceeded to thoroughly lacerate most of the muscles of the forearm before finally lodging in the elbow. Thus was Honey Hoke rendered innocuous for the time being. He was not a two-handed gunfighter.
They were uncertain propositions, every measly one of them. "Shore it's all right," went on the 88 manager. "I ain't meaning no harm. Yo're taking a lot for granted, Racey, a whole lot for granted." "Nemmine what I'm taking for granted," flung back Racey. "I get along with taking only what's mine, anyway." Which was equivalent to saying that Lanpher was a thief.
"There was a feller once," said Peaches, "who bit off more'n he could chew." "I've heard of him," Racey admitted, gravely. "He was first cousin to the other feller that grabbed the bear by the tail." "I dunno whose first cousin he was," frowned Peaches. "All I know is he didn't show good sense." "Now that," said Racey, "is where you and I don't think alike. I may be wrong in what I think.
Of course, it looks like his signature, and you got witnesses who say it's his signature, but " The Judge paused and gravely contemplated Luke Tweezy. "I'll tell you what it looks like to me," announced Racey in a loud, unsympathetic tone. "The whole deal's too smooth. She's so smooth she's slick, like a counterfeit dollar. You and Lanpher are a couple of damn thieves, Tweezy."
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