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Chapter 7 THE RIDDLE

Word Count: 2598    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

down on a broken packing-case that sat drunkenly beside the posts of the hotel corral. "What'

whide string through one of the silver conchas on his split

re to talk over, I'd

Racey, "there's somet

you flat, y' understand, that so long as we gotta take root here instead of going to Arizona like we'd planned it out

o do, huh?" questioned Racey, his n

ou," said Swin

ts of ways, too. He eats like a hawg, drinks like a fish, and snores like a ripsaw, so you can see there's something almost human about him. But he hasn't any brains, not a brain. He never has

has gone far enough. If you

sunk in yet? Hand me that ax

aggin'," Swing exclaim

Gawd, yo're worse'n a

e the string to the la

been aching a l

"There ain't any manner of use going into s

king about-th

't you see anything funny

position to me. Fifty

hat's al

sin' round with Baldy Ba

ng, old-timer, I got a long and gashly tale of wickedness to pour into those lily-white mul

ut I don't mind. I'm good-natured to-day. I fee

*

ed solemn-faced Swing when he ha

t?" demanded the u

imagin

lookit

doubts one of yore reg'lar fish stories you gotta crawl his hump. Aw right, I believe you. How big was he again? Ugh-h-h! Uncle! Uncle! Get off my stummick! I said 'Uncle,' didn't I? Damitall, that left ear of mine will

s will stay put. Don't you fret. By the time he doe

ear you say 'we'? Ain't you t

ifty per, wages to start when we say when, and no work for a while, yet we're to stay round town till he wants us to start in. And he talks of maybe a li'l trouble in the future with Baldy Barbee and the Anvil boys, and he mentions Baldy and the Anvil several times, and the last time wasn't necessary. And, furthermore, he don't say anything a-tall about this Chin Whisker gent, who's old Dale or I'm Dutch. So there y'are, a

ared to give in without an argument. Besides, he invariably objected on principle to anythin

s it sets us aga

d Swing. "Neither Baldy Barbee nor the Anvil outfit are

a? And Thompson? And Peaches Austin? I dunno exactly what it all means. But whatever it is, it's gotta do with the country round Fare

fingers, doubling a thumb

-in-a-box. I used to ride for Jack, and he's my friend. You dunno him, but you can take my word he's the pure quill forty ways. Then there's the Bar S. Who's foreman of that? Tom Loudon. You worked with him up at Scotty MacKenzie's Flyin' M ranch on the Dogsoldier, and I've knowed him eve

ere they ain't even a lighted match. I don't wanna do anything against ei

ecause his jumping old Dale's ranch will shore start a war and you can gamble it's just as dangerous to be shot by yore friends as it is by the enemy. Here I'm telling you over and over and you ain't satisfied yet! I

d a guileful step or two closer to Racey. The movement of his right arm passed unnoticed by Racey. But the lighted cigar

elf out of his shirt with the utmost despatch. He did not

dear? You look awful cute standin' there with nothing on but yore pants. All you need now is a pair of wings and a bow n'arrer and you'd be a dead ringer fo

the back of the corral. Muttering to himself he was pull

play on a feller

led me half-witted. Do you know you look just like a turtl

sit on y

l Lainey wheezed round t

cey?" inquired the hotel

denied ungraciously. "I do this for fun a

t breakfast, but you was through before I got back from Mike Flynn's-lookit, I wish you'd go a li'l slow when yo're roughhousin' round

feller snored. Likewise he had too much to say. So naturally I had to make hi

an effort at humour where, in his own estimation, none was due. "Racey hasn't got the

he hasher in his hearing at breakfast. "That's right. It was Swing Tunstall what made so free and outrageous with Rack Slimson. You go and

en plates, and a middle-size pitcher Rack Slimson busted when he rolled off the table with 'em durin' the night. I don't think Rac

ing in a still small voice, and t

lars and six bits. And that's dirt cheap. Honest, I'll bet it'll cost me fiftee

's hand to the landlord's palm. "There's such a thing, Swing, old settler, as being too quick, as whirling too wide a loop

six bits makes ten-seventy-five," totalled

to a wide trousers pocket. "'Bliged to you, Swing.

ir-minded boy. He'll do what's right every time, once you show him where

ugh," was the

huh? Enough

ends. Not me. I got a wife and family to support, and they's enough trouble runn

s it against the law to tell a feller where Neb

e Starlight," replied

to know any of t

n. They's a few more, but they ain't the kind to take the lead in anything. They always follow. But Coffin, Thompson, Hoke, and Austin are the gents to keep yore eye peeled for. I ain't talking abou

s, Bil

hotel-keeper, hastily. "I ain't sai

light's owner, Rack S

ska's

bunch spend a pile of money in the Starlight, a pile of money. A felle

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