Part 18 (2/2)

”What child?” frowned Racey Dawson, sitting up very straight and throwing a chest. ”That child over there by the doorway--there in the streak o' sush-s.h.i.+ne. Aw, the cute li'l feller! See him playin' with Windy Taylor's spurs. Ain't he cunnin'?”

”With most of 'em it's elephants and snakes an' such,” proffered Luke Tweezy.

”Yeah,” a.s.sented Swing Tunstall. ”A kid is something new.”

”Thu-then you can't lend me that money?” Racey inquired, querulously.

”No, Racey, I can't. Honest, I'd like to. Nothin' I'd like better.

Only the way I'm fixed just now it's plain flat impossible.”

”Then I s'puh-s'puh-s'pose I'll have to touch the Bar S folks or the Cross-in-a-box. I gotta have money. Gug-gotta. They're my friends.

They'll give it to mum-me. Sh.o.r.e they will gimme all I want. They're all my _friends_, I tell you!”

As Racey uttered the word ”friends” his toe pressed Swing Tunstall's instep.

”They're Swing's friends, too,” continued Racey. ”Ain't they, Sus-Swing?” Again the Dawson toe bore down upon the Tunstall foot.

”Sh.o.r.e they are,” chimed in Swing, watching his friend closely--so closely that he was able to catch the extremely slight nod of approbation given by Racey.

”Thu-there's Tom Loudon an' Tim Pup-pup-page of the Bub-bar S,”

stuttered Racey, gazing blearily at Luke Tweezy. ”Bub-best fuf-friends I ever had, them tut-two fellers. An' Old Man Sus-Saltoun. There's a pup-prince for you. Gug-give you the s.h.i.+rt off his bub-back.”

Which last was stretching it rather. For Old Man Saltoun, while not precisely stingy, was certainly not the most generous person in the territory. Nor did it escape Racey Dawson that Luke Tweezy eyed him sharply as he made the remark. At once Racey began to roll his head from side to side and rock his body to and fro, and laugh crazily.

”The Bub-bub-bar S is the bub-best ranch in the worl'.” Again Racey took up the thread of his discourse. ”I tell you that outfit is great friends o' mine. Juh-juh-just tut-to shuh-show yuh, Lul-luke. Ol' Man Sush-Saltoun let three punchers go lul-last week an' then turned round an' gives us both jobs. That's huh-how we stand with Ol' Man Sush-Saltoun.”

”That's fine,” complimented Luke Tweezy.

”An' that ain't all,” Racey galloped on, one toe pressing Swing's instep. ”I'm gonna tell him, Swing. He ain't no friend o' Jack Harpe's. If I tell you you won't tell n.o.body, Lul-Luke, wuh-will yuh?”

Luke was understood to state that no clam could be tighter-mouthed.

”I knowed you wouldn't tell, Lul-luke,” Racey declared, solemnly, reaching across the table and affectionately pawing the Tweezy sleeve.

”I mum-maybe dud-drunk, but I know a friend when I see him. Yuh bub-bet I do. Lul-lookit, Luke, lean over--” Here Racey pressed heavily on Swing's instep. Then, when Luke leaned forward, Racey did the same and possessed himself of the money-lender's ear by the simple method of gripping it tightly between fingers and thumb. ”Lul-luke,”

resumed Racey, ”Jack Harpe's offered us a job, too, an' we're gonna take him up instead of the Bar S. Huh-how's that?”

Racey released the Tweezy ear, leaned back in his chair, and breathed triumphantly through his nose.

Luke Tweezy likewise leaned back as far as his chair would permit, and fingered tenderly a tingling ear. ”Whatcha gonna take Harpe's job for?” he asked, puzzled. ”I thought you liked the Bar S such a lot.”

”We do,” chirped Racey, laying a long finger beside his nose and pressing again the Tunstall instep. ”That's why we're gonna ride for Jack Harpe.” Grinning at the mystification of Luke Tweezy, he leaned forward and whispered, ”We got a idea we can help the Bar S most by bein' where we can watch Jack--and his outfit.”

Luke Tweezy sat up very suddenly. 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.”

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