"That's Tex Ewalt, Whit," informed Mary. "He 's on our side."
"Ah! do you know, I thought as much. My word, I 'm thirsty; wish I had a brandy and soda here." He paused to take a drink of water, shaking his head when Buck motioned to the whiskey. "I 'm afraid I shall never get used to that rye of yours," he declared, mournfully.
Buck turned to Hopalong. "What do you make of it?" he asked.
"If it depended on you alone, Buck, it would be easier to answer. But McAllister is in th' game an' it shore ain't Frenchy: we both know what he 'd 'a' done. What does McAllister think o' this partnership deal?" he asked Whitby.
"He has n't heard of it, but I 'm sure he would agree with me."
"All right!" exclaimed Buck. "We'll let Mac make th' runnin'. If it looks like he 's goin' to lose th' race it will be all th' easier to drop th' winner if we got him in gun range. But I shore hates to pay big interest, like I must, a-puttin' up money that way."
"Let me lend it you, Buck," advised Whitby. "The Governor will cable it fast enough when I ask for it. You won't have to pay me a penny interest. And when things settle down a bit you can turn it over to McAllister. I shall stop in this country. I like it, by Jove! And I 'm jolly well sure McAllister will sell out to me, particularly if—I say, Buck, have I made good out here in the West?"
Buck laughed as he grasped Whitby's hand. "Made good!" he repeated. "Yo 're th' best Britisher I ever knew an' I 've met some good ones in my time." With Hopalong's slap on his shoulder and Mary smiling at him from her chair by the window, Whitby felt that it was likely to prove a very pleasant country "when things settled down a bit."
"Let's get at that letter to Mac," suggested Buck. "Th' sooner I hear from him th' easier I 'll be in mind."
"I 've written it," answered Whitby. "If you like I 'll get it to Wayback to-night and stop over until morning."