Part 21 (2/2)

Silhouetted against the streak of dying red was the upper half of Jack Harpe's torso. There was no mistaking the set of that head and those shoulders. Both it and them were unmistakable. Jack Harpe. Racey swore behind his teeth. If only he could have reached the barn in time to hear what the two men had said to each other.

After a decent interval Racey went on. The Happy Heart was the nearest saloon. He felt reasonably certain that Luke Tweezy would go there to have his cut head dressed. He had. Racey, his back against the bar, looked on with interest at the bandaging of Luke Tweezy by the proprietor.

”Yep,” said Luke, sitting sidewise in the chair, ”stubbed my toe against a cordwood stick in front of Tom Kane's barn and hit my head on a rock. Knocked me silly.”

”Sh'd think it might,” grunted the proprietor, attending to his job with difficulty because Luke _would_ squirm. ”Hold still, will you, Luke?”

”Yo're taking twice as many st.i.tches as necessary,” grumbled Luke.

”I ain't,” denied the proprietor. ”And I got two more to take. HOLD STILL!”

”Don't need to deafen me!” squalled Luke, indignantly.

”Shut up!” ordered the proprietor, who, for that he did not owe any money to Luke, was not prepared to pay much attention to his fussing.

”If you think I'm enjoying this, you got another guess coming. And if you don't like the way I'm doing it, you can do it yoreself.”

Luke stood up at last, a white bandage encircling his head, said that he was much obliged, and would like to borrow a lantern for a few moments.

”Aw, you don't need any lantern,” objected the proprietor. ”I forgot to fill mine to-day, anyway. Can't you find yore way to the hotel in the dark? That crack on the topknot didn't blind you, did it?”

”I lost something,” explained Luke Tweezy. ”When I fell down most all my money slipped out of my pocket.”

”I'll get you a lantern then,” grumbled the proprietor.

Ten minutes later Luke Tweezy, frantically quartering the floor of Tom Kane's barn, heard a slight sound and looked up to see Racey Dawson and Swing Tunstall standing in the doorway.

”I didn't know you fell down _inside_ the barn,” Racey observed.

”There's lots you dunno,” said Luke, ungraciously.

”So there is,” a.s.sented Racey. ”But don't rub it in, Luke. Rubbing it in hurts my feelings. And my feelings are tender to-day--most awful tender, Luke. Don't you go for to lacerate 'em. I ain't owing you a dime, you know.”

To this Luke Tweezy made no comment. But he resumed his squattering about the floor and his poking and delving in the piles of hay. He raised a dust that flew up in clouds. He coughed and snorted and snuffed. Racey and Swing Tunstall laughed.

”Makes you think of a hay-tedder, don't he?” grinned Racey. ”How much did you lose, Luke--two bits?”

At this Luke looked up sharply. ”Seems to me you got over yore drunk pretty quick,” said he.

”Oh, my liquor never stays by me a great while,” Racey told him easily. ”That's the beauty of being young. When you get old and toothless an' deecrepit like some people, not to mention no names of course, why then she's a cat with another tail entirely.”

”What'ell's goin' on in here?” It was Red Kane speaking. Red was Tom Kane's brother.

Racey and Swing moved apart to let him through. Red Kane entered, stared at the spectacle of Luke Tweezy and his bobbing lantern, stared and stared again.

”What you doing, Luke?” he demanded.

”Luke's lost a nickel, Red.” Racey answered for the lawyer. ”And a nickel, you know yoreself, is worth all of five cents.”

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