“Yo’re worse’n a helldodger,” affirmed Bull.

“You got me sized up right.  I’m worse than a helldodger, a whole lot worse.”  The words were playful, but the tone was sardonic.

Bull grunted.

“You tell me, will you, just where it was you met this Bill Smith-Jack Harpe feller, and what it was he did?  There’s a company in it, too.  What company is it—­the Northern Pacific?”

“Ah-h, you got a gall, you have,” sneered Bull, savagely.  “Think you’ll make something out of Harpe yore own self, huh?”

“That is my idea,” admitted Racey.

“Well, you got a gall, thassall I gotta say.”

“You forget you’ve got a gall, too, when you try to bushwhack me,” Racey reminded him.  “I’m trying to play even for that.”

“Try away.”

“You seem to make it hard for me kind of,” grinned Racey.

“Of course I’d enjoy makin’ it easy for you all I could,” observed
Bull with sarcasm.

“I dunno as I’d go so far as to say that,” was the Dawson comment. 
“But maybe it’s possible to persuade you to tell me what you know.”

“It ain’t.”

“Suppose I decided to leave you here.”

“You won’t.”  Confidently.

“Why not?”

“Because you ain’t shootin’ a unarmed man.”

“Yet you think I’m the boy to kick one that’s down.”

“Sometimes I change my mind,” said Bull with a harsh laugh.

“You laugh as loud as that again,” said Racey, irritably, “and you’ll change somethin’ besides yore mind.  Don’t be too trusting a jake, Bull, not too trusting.  I might surprise you yet.  About that information now—­I want it.”

“If anybody’s gonna make money out of Harpe I am.”  Thus Bull, stubbornly.

“I ain’t aimin’ to make money out of Harpe.  What I’m figuring to make out of him is somethin’ else again.”

“Whatsa use of lying thataway?  Don’t—­”

“That’ll be about all,” interrupted Racey.  “You’ve called me a liar enough for one night.  I ain’t got all kinds of patience.  You going to tell me what I want to know?”

“No, I ain’t.”

“Yo’re mistaken.  You’ll tell me, or you’ll leave town.”

“Leave town!”

“Yep, leave town, go away from here, far, far away.  So far away that you won’t be able to blackmail Jack Harpe.  See?  Yore knowledge won’t be worth a whoop to you then.  An’ I’ll find out what I want to know from Marie.”

“She’ll never tell.”

“Oh, I guess she will,” said Racey, but he knew in his heart that worming information out of Marie would not be easy.  Saving his life was one thing, but giving up information with a money value would be quite another.  The amiable Marie was certainly not working for her health.

“Yo’re welcome to what you can get out of her,” said Bull.

“Then you’ll be starting to-night.  From here we’ll go get yore hoss and see you safely on yore way.”