They had prospered exceedingly, these Currycomb boys, till the election of an opposition sheriff.  Which election had put heart into the more decent set and a crimp in the Currycomb.  It did not matter that legally the Currycomb possessed a clean bill of health.  The community had decided that the Currycomb must be abolished.  It was—­cow, cayuse, and cowboy.

While some had remained on the premises at an approximate depth beneath the grass of two feet (for the ground was hard), the other Currycombers had scattered wide and far and their accustomed places knew them no more.

Now it seemed that at least one of the Currycomb boys, and that one the most notorious character of the lot, had scattered as far as Farewell and obtruded his personality upon that of Racey Dawson.  Nebraska Jones!  A cold smile stretched the corners of Racey’s mouth as he thought on what he had done.  He had beaten to the draw the foreman of the Currycomb.  Which undoubtedly must have been the first time Nebraska had ever been shaded.

The girl was watching his face.  “Don’t begin to get the notion you beat him to it,” she advised, divining his thought.  “He was stunned sort of that first time, an’ the second time his gun caught a little.  Nebraska is slow lightnin’ on the pull.  Keep thinkin’ you was lucky like you done at first.”

Racey laughed shamefacedly.  “Yo’re too much of a mind reader for me.  But what you telling all this to me for?  I ain’t the sheriff with a warrant for Nebraska Jones.”

“I’m telling you so you’ll know what to expect.  So you’ll get out of town and stay out.  Because, shore as yo’re a foot high, you won’t live a minute longer than is plumb necessary if you don’t.”

“I beat Nebraska once, and he won’t get well of that lead in the shoulder so jo-awful soon.”

“Can you beat a shot in the dark?  Can you dodge a knife in the night?  It ain’t a question of Nebraska Jones himself.  It’s the gang he’s managed to pick up in this town.  They are meaner than a nest of cross rattlesnakes.  I know ’em.  I know what they’ll do.  Right this minute they’re fixing up some way to give you yore come-uppance.”

“Think so?”

“Think so!  Say, would I come traipsing out here just for my health—­or yores?  Figure it out.”

“Seems like you know a lot about Nebraska and his gang,” he cast at a venture, glancing at her sharply.

“I lived with Nebraska—­for a while,” she said, matter-of-factly, giving him a calm stare.  “Li’l Marie knows all they is to know about Nebraska Jones—­and a little bit more.  Which goes double for his gang.”

“Shucks,” Racey grunted contemptuously.  “Does he and his gang run Farewell?  I’d always thought Farewell was a man’s size town.”

“They’re careful,” explained the girl.  “They got sense enough not to run any blazers they can’t back to the limit.  Yeah, they’re careful—­now.”

“Now, huh?  Later, when they’ve filled their hands and there’s more of ‘em playin’ they might not be so careful, huh, Marie?”