"Then you'll be starting to-night. From here we'll go get yore hoss and see you safely on yore way."
"What'll you gimme to tell you?" inquired the desperate Bull.
"Nothin'—not a thin dime, feller. C'mon, let's go."
"Nun-no, not yet. I—say, suppose you lemme talk to Jack Harpe first myself. Just you lemme get my share out of him, and I'll tell you all you wanna know."
"When you going to him?" Racey demanded, suspiciously.
"To-night if I can find him. It ain't so late. But to-morrow, anyway."
"I'll give you till sundown to-morrow night. If you ain't ready to tell me then you'll have to drift."
"Maybe, maybe not," sneered Bull.
"I've said it," Racey said, shortly, rising to his feet.
"There's no ropes on you. Skip…. Nemmine yore Winchester. She's all right where she is. So long, Bull, so long."