Part 44 (1/2)

Huh? No 'maybe' about it. I know. Tip's an old woman, I tell you.

He's gettin' too big for his boots. He needs a lesson.”

”Who'll give him one?”

”We will.”

”No. Not for a minute. I know Tip. I ain't locking horns with that gent.”

”Whatcha afraid of? He can't do anything.”

”Can't, huh? Aw right, let it go at that. Not any for me, thanks.”

Again Rafe's persuasive forefinger came into action. ”Say, Tip ain't any grizzly bear, feller. He's only a two-legged man like you and me.

He can be put where he belongs.”

The district attorney remained unconvinced. ”I hear you say it.”

”Ain't you got any nerve a-tall?”

”Where Tip is concerned, not much,” was the frank reply. ”I've seen that man in action.”

”Action nothin'. That's just what's the matter with that man--not enough action. He'll go so far and no farther. He don't want anybody wiped out if he can help it. You saw what a fuss he made over Tom Walton's killing. Lord! He made me sick! You might 'a' thought Tom was a good friend of his. I tell you, Arthur, that sort of squeamishness don't get you anywhere. Nawsir. You gotta go the whole hog or you'll wind up in the calaboose. You bet I ain't for any of them half-way plans. It's kill a bull every time, or I don't shoot.

Tip O'Gorman must go.”

”Lessee what Sam Larder and Crafty say,” the district attorney offered uneasily.

”No, not them, either of 'em,” Rafe declared firmly. ”They're friends of Tip's.”

”You tell 'em just like you told me,” suggested the other. ”Maybe you could persuade 'em.”

Rafe shook a decided head. ”Not a chance. I know them. They're soft and bull-headed where Tip's concerned. They think he's h.e.l.l on the Wabash, you know that. Those three stand together always. No, Arthur, if we shove this deal through, we gotta do it alone.”

But the district attorney remained dubious. ”It's too big an order.”

”Not by a jugful it ain't. Gimme the bottle.”

Rafe poured out a stiff four fingers. He drank it slowly. Then he had another. His eyes began to gleam redly. Suddenly he stood up and struck the table with his fist.

”I'll show 'em,” he exclaimed. ”Tip needn't think he can gimme orders!

Won't let you s.h.i.+p cows if you get your leg over the pole again, says O'Gorman, Larder and Craft. Just as if I'd done something out of the way instead of tryin' to put one more polecat out of the world. I'll show 'em! Say, Arthur, whatsa matter with buckin' Larder and Craft after we put Tip out of business?”

”Wait till we do,” replied the district attorney, who foresaw many difficulties in the proposed operation. ”And if you ask me, I don't know how we're going to do it.”

Rafe Tuckleton scratched a tousled head. ”Jonesy might shoot him cleaning' his gun,” he proffered.

”Why don't you do it yourself?”

Rafe showed the requisite amount of contempt for such a foolish question. ”It's more'n possible Tip might start cleanin' his own gun about that time. And I _could_ spare Jonesy if I had to.”