“Come again,” said Mr. Saltoun, wrinkling his forehead.

Racey came again as requested.

“Six months is a long time” frowned Mr. Saltoun.  “If I lose—­”

“But I dunno what I’m talkin’ about,” pointed out Racey.  “I make mistakes, you know that.  And you were so shore nothin’ was gonna happen.  Are you still shore?”

“Well—­” hesitated Mr. Saltoun.

“If you take us up you stand to be in the wages of two punchers for six months.  That’s four hundred and eighty dollars.  Almost five hundred dollars.  Of course, it’s a chance.  What ain’t, I’d like to know?  But yo’re so shore she’s gonna keep on come-day-go-day like always, that I’d oughta have odds.”

“Five to one,” mused Mr. Saltoun, pulling at the ends of his gray mustache.

“And fair enough—­seeing that nothing is going to happen.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” put in Tom Loudon.  “These trick bets are unlucky.”

“Oh, I dunno,” said Mr. Saltoun, running true to form in that he rarely took kindly to advice.  “Looks like a good chance to get six months’ work out of two men for nothing.”

“Looks like a good chance to lose twenty-four hundred dollars,” exclaimed Tom Loudon, wrathfully.

“My Gawd, Tom,” said Mr. Saltoun, cocking a grizzled eyebrow, “you don’t mean to tell me you think they’s any chance a-tall of Racey’s winning this bet, do you?”

“They’s just about ten times more chance for him to win than to lose.”

“Tom, do you ever see any li’l pink lizards with blue tails an’ red feet?  I hear that’s a sign, too.”

“Aw right, have it yore own way,” said Tom Loudon with every symptom of disgust.  “Only don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Gawd, Tom, y’ old wet blanket, yo’re always a-warnin’ me.  I never see such a feller.”

“Aw right, I said.  Aw right.  But when yo’re a-writin’ out a check for twenty-four hundred dollars, just remember how I always told you somebody was gonna horn in here some day and glom half the range.”

“Laugh,” said Mr. Saltoun.  “Yo’re shore the jokin’est feller, Tom Loudon.  Even Racey and his partner are laughing.”

“I should think they would,” Tom Loudon returned, savagely.  “I’d laugh, too, if I stood to win twenty-four hundred in six months.”

Mr. Saltoun shook a whimsical head at Racey Dawson.  “Whatsa use?” he asked, sorrowfully.  “Whatsa use?”

* * * * *

“You was too easy with him,” declared Swing, as he and Racey were unsaddling at the Bar S corral.  “You could ‘a’ stuck him for three hundred a month just as easy.”

Racey shook a decided head.  “No, there’s a limit even to Old Salt’s stubbornness.  I know him better’n you do ...  Aw, what you kicking about?  We’ve got enough coin in our overalls to last out six months if you don’t drink too much.”

“If I don’t drink too much, hey!  If I don’t drink too much!  Which I like that.  Who’s—­”