Part 42 (2/2)
”Do you think you can get a easy rate from Old Salt?” asked Dale, the light of a new hope dawning in his faded old eyes. ”It's a awful tax on a feller paying the full legal rate.”
”We'll have to take what we can get, but I'll do my best to tone it down. Sometimes a man will take less if he has another object in view besides the interest. 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. You--you fix it up with Old Salt.”
Abruptly he turned away and hobbled hurriedly around the corner of the barn.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SHOOTING
Racey Dawson, riding back to Moccasin Spring, was in a warm and pleasant frame of mind. With him rode Old Salt, and with Old Salt rode Old Salt's check book. Racey had, after much argument and persuasion, made excellent arrangements with Mr. Saltoun. The latter, anxious though he was to own the Dale place himself, had agreed to pay off the mortgage bought by Lanpher and Tweezy and take in return a 6 per cent.
mortgage for ten years. No wonder Racey was pleased with himself. He had a right to be.
As they crossed the Marysville and Farewell trail Racey's horse picked up a fortuitous stone. Racey dismounted. Mr. Saltoun, slouching comfortably back against his cantle, looked doubtfully down at Racey where he stood humped over, the horse's hoof between his knees, tapping with a knife handle at the lodged stone.
”A ten-year mortgage is a long one, kind of,” he said, slowly.
”I thought we'd settled all that.” Racey lifted a quick head.
”Sh.o.r.e we've done settled it,” Mr. Saltoun acquiesced, promptly.
”That's all right. I'm going through with my part of it. Gotta do it.
Nothing else to do. I was just a-thinking, that's all.”
Racey merely grunted. He resumed his tapping.
”Alla same,” Mr. Saltoun said, suddenly, ”I don't believe this Jack Harpe feller had anything to do with this mortgage deal, Racey.”
”Don't you?”
”No, I don't. You can't make me believe they's any c.o.o.n in _that_ tree. If they was why ain't Jack Harpe done something before this?
Tell me that. Why ain't he?”
”Damfino.”
”Sh.o.r.e you don't. You was mistaken, Racey. Badly mistaken. Yore judgment was out by a mile. She's all just Luke Tweezy and that lousy skunk of a Lanpher trying to act spotty. No more than that.”
”Well, ain't that enough?”
”Sh.o.r.e, but--”
”But nothing. Where'd you be if I hadn't found out about it, huh?
Wouldn't you look nice feedin' other folks' cows on yore gra.s.s?”
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