Part 40 (1/2)

”Like that!” Luke Tweezy snapped his teeth together with a click.

”But foreclosing takes time. You can't sell a man up the minute his mortgage is due. There's got to be notices in the papers and the like of that. Suppose now he gets to borrow the money some'ers before the sale? He'll have plenty of time to look round.”

”Who'd lend him money?”

”Old Salt would. He's tight, but he'd rather have Dale at Moccasin Spring than someone else, and he'd lend Dale money rather than have him drove out.”

”Shucks, he wouldn't lend him a dime. I know Old Salt. Don't fret, we'll foreclose when we get ready.”

”I ain't fretting,” said Racey. ”You'll foreclose, huh? Aw right. I just wanted to be sh.o.r.e. You can go now, Luke.”

Thus dismissed Tweezy rose to his feet and glared down at Racey Dawson. His little eyes shone with spite.

”Say it,” urged Racey. ”You'll bust if you don't.”

But Luke Tweezy did not say it. He knew better. Without a word he returned to the house.

”They ain't going to foreclose, that's a cinch,” said Racey when the ponies were fox-trotting toward Soogan Creek and the Bar S range five minutes later. ”Luke's telling me they were proves they ain't.”

”Sh.o.r.e,” acquiesced Swing, ”but what are they gonna do?”

”I ain't figured that out yet.”

”You mean you dunno. That's the size of it,”

”How'd you happen to be at that window so providential this mornin'?”

Racey queried, hurriedly.

”How'd you s'pose? Don't you guess I'd know they was something up from the nice, kind way you said so-long to me back there at the Dales'?

Huh? 'Course I did--I ain't no fool. You'd oughta had sense enough to take me along in the first place instead of makin' me trail you miles an' miles. And where would you 'a' been if I hadn't come siftin'

along, I'd like to know? Might know you'd need a witness. Them two jiggers put together could easy make you lots of trouble. What was you thinking of, anyhow, Racey?”

”How could I tell they were _both_ gonna be together? Besides, three of the 88 boys were over in the bunkhouse. I was counting on them.”

”Over in the bunkhouse, huh? A lot of good they'd done you there. A lot of good. Oh, yo're bright, Racey. I'd tell a man that, I would.”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SHOWDOWN

Racey, walking suddenly round the corner of the Dale stable, came upon Mr. Dale tilting a bottle toward the sky. The business end of the bottle was inserted between Mr. Dale's lips. His Adam's apple slid gravely up and down. He did not see Racey Dawson.

”Howdy,” said the puncher.

Mr. Dale removed the bottle, whirled, and thrust the bottle behind him.

”Oh, it's you,” he said, blinking, and slowly producing the bottle.

”Huh-have one on me.”