Peaches modestly veiled his pale green eyes beneath dropped lids and turned his head away.  He would have given a great deal to go elsewhere.  But to do that would be to make himself conspicuous, and there were many reasons, all more or less cogent, why he did not wish to make himself conspicuous.  Peaches sat still on his chair and broke into a gentle perspiration.

Racey perceived the other’s discomfort and ached to increase it.  “Did you stay here three-four days like I told you to that time a few weeks ago?  And was Jack Harpe most Gawd-awful hot under the collar when you did see him final?  And if so, what happened?”

Racey gaped at Peaches like an expectant terrier watching a rat-hole.  It may be that Peaches felt like a holed rat in a hole too small for comfort.  He turned on Racey with a flash of defiance.

“There was a feller once,” said Peaches, “who bit off more’n he could chew.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Racey admitted, gravely.  “He was first cousin to the other feller that grabbed the bear by the tail.”

“I dunno whose first cousin he was,” frowned Peaches.  “All I know is he didn’t show good sense.”

“Now that,” said Racey, “is where you and I don’t think alike.  I may be wrong in what I think.  I may have made a mistake, but I gotta be showed why and wherefore.  Anybody is welcome to show me, Peaches, just anybody.”

Racey accompanied his remarks with a chilling look.  The perspiration of Peaches turned clammy.

“Meaning?” Peaches queried.

“Meaning?  Why, meaning that you can show me if you like, Peaches.”

This was too much for Peaches.  He was out of his depth and unable to swim.  He sank with a gurgle of, “I dunno what yo’re drivin’ at.”

Racey shook a sorrowful head.  “I’m shore sorry to hear it.  I was guessin’ you did.  I had hopes of you, Peaches.  You’ve done gimme a disappointment.  Yep, she’s a cruel world when all’s said and done.”

This was too much for Peaches.  He resolved to shift his seat whether it made him conspicuous or not.  The gambler removed to a vacant windowsill, upon which he sat and looked anywhere but at Racey Dawson.  That young man leaned back in his chair and surveyed the multitude.

Besides the citizens found in the saloon on his and Mr. Saltoun’s arrival there were now present Dolan, who combined with his office of justice of the peace that of coroner, and twelve good men and true, the coroner’s jury and most intimate friends, ready and willing at any and all times to serve the territory for ten dollars a day and expenses.  In addition to this representative group Alicran Skeel had dropped in from nowhere, Chuck Morgan had driven over with a wagon from Soogan Creek (mercifully the family at Moccasin Spring had not yet been informed of their bereavement), and Sheriff Jake Rule and his deputy Kansas Casey had ridden out from Farewell.  Punch-the-breeze Thompson had returned with the sheriff.  Which circumstance either disposed of the theory that Thompson was the murderer, or else Thompson had more nerve than he was supposed to have.  Racey began to nurse a distinct grievance against Thompson.