“You forgot yore shovel, Kansas,” he said, gently, “or Jack Harpe did.  Same thing, and here it is.”

Kansas had the grace to look a trifle shamefaced.  “Somebody said you’d buried that knife—­” he began, and stopped.

“Yep, I know, Jack Harpe,” smiled Racey.  “Li’l Bright Eyes is shore a friend of mine.  Only I wouldn’t bank too strong on what he says about me.”

“I ain’t,” denied the deputy.

“Another thing, Kansas,” drawled Racey, “did you ever stop to think how come he knowed so much about that knife?  And did you ask him if he was the gent left that paper in Jake’s office?  And going on from that did you ask him why he didn’t come out flat footed at first and say what he thought he knowed instead of waiting till after you’d searched my room?  You don’t have to answer, Kansas, only if I was you I’d think it over, I’d think it over plenty.  So long.”

From the house of Casey he went to the shack of Marie.  He found the girl cooking her dinner quite as if attempts at murder, dead men, and jailburning were matters of small moment.  But if her manner was placid, her eyes were not.  They were bright and hard, and they flickered stormily upon him when she lifted her gaze from the pan of frying potatoes and saw who it was standing in the doorway.

“I’m obliged to you,” she said, calmly, “for payin’ my fine.  You ran away so quick this mornin’ you didn’t gimme any chance to thank you.  I’ll pay you back soon’s I get paid come Saturday.”

Racey stared reproachfully.  He shifted his weight from one uncomfortable foot to the other.  “I didn’t come here about the fine,” he told her.  “I—­” He stopped, uncertain whether to continue or not.

“If you didn’t come about the fine it must be something else important,” said she, insultingly.  “I shore oughta be set up, I suppose.  So far it’s always been me that’s had to make all the moves.”

“‘Moves?’” repeated Racey, frankly puzzled.

“Moves,” she mimicked.  “Didn’t you ever play checkers?  Oh, nemmine, nemmine!  Don’t take it to heart.  I don’t mean nothin’.  Never did.  C’mon in an’ set.  Take a chair.  That one.  What do you want?  Down feller, down!”

The command was called forth by the violent entry of the yellow dog which, remembering Racey as a friend, flung itself upon him with whines and tail-waggings.

“He’s all right,” said Racey, rubbing the rough head.  “I just thought I’d ask you what you knew about Jack Harpe.”

Marie’s narrowed eyes turned dark with suspicion.  “Whadda you know about me an’ Jack Harpe?” she demanded.

“Not as much as I’d like to know,” was his frank reply.

“I ain’t talkin’.”  Shortly.

“Now, lookit here—­” he began, wheedlingly.

She shook her head at him.  “S’no use.  I don’t tell everything I know.”

“Then you do know something about Jack Harpe?”

“I didn’t say I did.”