“And when you get all well, Lanpher,” put in Racey, “will I still be a liar like you say?”

Lanpher looked at Racey and looked away.  His heated blood was cooling fast.  His arm—­Lord, how it hurt!  He perceived that discretion was necessary to preserve the rest of his precious skin from future perforation.

“I—­I guess I was a li’l hasty,” he mumbled, his eyelids lowered.

“Now that’s what I call right down handsome—­for you,” drawled Racey.  “Gawd knows I ain’t a hawg.  I’m satisfied.  Luke, s’pose you and me walk out to the corral together.  I got a secret for yore pearly ear.”

It was obvious that Luke Tweezy was of two minds.  Racey grinned to see the other’s hesitation.

“What you scared of, Luke?” he inquired.  “It ain’t far to the corral, and you can ask Alicran to come outside and watch me while I’m talkin’ to you.”

“I ain’t got any business with you,” denied Luke Tweezy.

“Oh, yo’re mistaken, a heap mistaken.  Yes, indeedy, you got business with me.  But it ain’t my fault, Luke.  I can’t help it.  Of course, if you don’t wanna talk to me private like, I can reel her off in here.  My thoughts were all of you and yore feelin’s, Luke, when I said the corral.  I was shore you’d be happier there.”

“I ain’t got a thing to hide, not a thing,” declared Luke Tweezy.  “But if you want to we’ll go out to the corral.”

They went out to the corral and Racey found a seat on an empty nailkeg.  Luke Tweezy sat perforce on the hardbaked ground.  He hunched up his legs, clasped his hands round his shins, and rested his sharp chin on his bony knees.  His eyes were fixed on Racey.  The latter seemed in no hurry to begin.  He rolled a cigarette with irritating slowness.  To force one’s opponent to wait is always good strategy.

“Well,” said Luke Tweezy.

“Is it?” smiled Racey.  “Have it yore own way, if you like.  Lookit, Luke, you buy a lot of scrip now and then, don’t you?”

“Shore,” nodded Luke.

“Good big discount, I’ll bet.”

“Why not?  I ain’t in business for my health.  They’s no law—­”

“Of course there ain’t.  And yore mortgages, Luke.  Do a good business in mortgages, don’t you?”

“So-so.”

“This mortgage of Old Man Dale’s now—­you figurin’ on foreclosin’ if he can’t pay?”

“Whadda you know about Dale’s mortgage?”

“I heard Lanpher yawpin’ about it.  He talks too loud sometimes, don’t he?  You gonna foreclose on him, I suppose?”

“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.”