Part 43 (2/2)
”I noticed that, too,” admitted Mr. Saltoun.
They waited, barring the trail. Punch-the-breeze Thompson did not attempt to ride around them. He pulled up and nodded easily to the two men.
”They's been a fraycas down at McFluke's,” Thompson said.
”Fraycas?” Racey c.o.c.ked an eyebrow.
”Yeah--old Dale and a stranger.”
Racey nodded. He knew with a great certainty what was coming next.
”Anybody hurt?” he asked.
”Old Dale.”
”Bad?”
”Killed.”
Racey nodded again. ”Even break?”
”We don't think so,” Thompson stated, frankly.
”Who's we?” queried Racey.
”Oh, Austin, Honey Hoke, Doc Coffin, McFluke, Jack Harpe, Lanpher, and Luke Tweezy. We all just didn't like the way the stranger went at it, so I'm going to Farewell after the sheriff.”
”Yo're holdin' the stranger then, I take it?” put in Mr. Saltoun.
”Well, no, not exactly,” replied Thompson. ”He got away, that stranger did.”
”And didn't none of you make any try at stopping him a-tall?” demanded Racey.
”Plenty,” Thompson replied with a stony face. ”I took a shot at him myself just as he was hopping through the window. I missed.”
”Yet they say yo're a good snap shot, Thompson,” threw in Racey.
”I am--most usual,” admitted Thompson. ”But this time my hand must 'a'
shook or something.”
”Yep,” concurred Racey, ”I sh.o.r.e guess it must 'a' shook or--something.”
Thompson faced Racey. ”'Or something,'” he repeated, hardily.
”Meaning?”
”What I said,” replied Racey, calmly. ”I never mean more'n I say--ever.”
Thompson continued to regard Racey fixedly. Mr. Saltoun was glad that he himself was two yards to the right, and he would not have objected to double the distance.
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