“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.”

“Shore about that?” Sharply.

“Shore I’m shore.  Why not?”

“You looked sort of funny when you said it.  Well, then, Peaches, we’ll go back to our hole yonder.  It’s reasonable to suppose that fellers hustlin’ to dig it and without any too much time wouldn’t make it any bigger than they had to.  How about it, huh?”

“Guess so, maybe.”

“Aw right, I told you a while ago the hole was too big for McFluke.  Why was it made too big for McFluke?”

“Damfino.”

“So as to let in the feller who was to pick open Mac’s handcuffs.”

“Well, what does that prove?”

“It proves that the expert who set Mac loose was a bigger man across the shoulders than McFluke.  Now who all around here, besides Kansas Casey, is wider across the shoulders than McFluke?”

Peaches wrinkled his forehead.  “I dunno,” he said after a space.

“Think again, Peaches, think again.  Don’t you know anybody who’s bigger sidewise than McFluke?”

“I don’t.  Mac’s the biggest man across the shoulders I ever seen.”

“Good enough, Peaches.  I’ve found out what I wanted.  I had a fair idea before, but now I know.  I hear you were acting boisterious and noisy out front of the dance hall last night?”

“What of it?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’ a-tall.  Only I’d think it over—­I’d think everythin’ over good an careful, and after I’d done that I’d do what looked like the best thing to do—­under the circumstances.  That’s all, Peaches.  You can go now.  I think yore friends are looking for you.  I saw Doc Coffin peekin’ round the corner of the dance hall a couple of times.”

Peaches arose and faced Racey Dawson and Swing Tunstall.  “I—­” he began, and stopped.

“I—­” prompted Swing.

“I what?” smiled Racey.  “Speak right out, Peaches.  Don’t you care if you do hurt our feelin’s.  They’re tough.  They can stand it.  Say what’s on yore mind.”

But Peaches did not say what was on his mind.  He turned about and walked hurriedly away.

“So it was Jack Harpe who picked the cuffs,” murmured Racey.  “Peaches, old timer, I didn’t think you’d be so easy.”

“Neither did I,” said Swing.  “And him a gambler.  No wonder he ain’t doin’ so well.”