Part 52 (2/2)
Peaches sat as requested. The two friends seated themselves one on his either hand. Racey laughed gently.
”Doc Coffin and Honey looked kind of surprised to see you with us,” he remarked with enjoyment, ”didn't they, Peaches?”
”I didn't notice,” lied Peaches.
”It don't matter,” nodded Racey. ”See that pile of dirt over against the back wall of Dolan's warehouse, Peaches?”
”I ain't blind.”
”No, then maybe you've heard how and why it come to be dug and all?”
”I ain't deaf, neither.”
Racey smiled his approval. ”I always said you had all yore senses except the common variety, Peaches.”
”Hop ahead with yore private talk,” grunted the badgered gambler.
”Gimme time, gimme time. It don't cost anything. Whadda you think of that hole, Peaches?”
”Good big hole,” replied Peaches, conservatively.
”Too big--that is, too big for just McFluke, or for any other feller the size of McFluke.”
”What of it?”
”Don't be in a hurry, Peaches, and you'll last longer. Did you know Mac's handcuffs were picked open?”
”How--picked open?”
”Whoever opened 'em didn't use a key,” Racey explained. ”They were picked open with a piece of bale-wire and a collar-needle.”
”I heard that.”
”I thought maybe so. But did you ever think that a feller has got to have a good and clever pair of hands to pick a lock with only a collar-needle and bale-wire?”
”All that stands to reason,” admitted Peaches.
”There can't be a great many fellers like that. No, not many--not around here, anyway. You'll find such sports in the big cities mainly.”
”Yeah,” chipped in Swing Tunstall, staring hard at Peaches, ”I'll bet you a hundred even they ain't more than one or two such experts in the whole territory.”
”Whadda you think, Peaches?” inquired Racey.
”Swing may be right,” said Peaches, preserving a wooden countenance.
”I dunno.”
<script>