"Ten dollars or ten days," repeated Judge Dolan. "Taking a shot at you is worth ten dollars but no more. It don't make any difference whether you came here to invest money or not, you wanna go slow round the women."
"But I didn't even say howdy to her," protested Jack Harpe.
"She says different. You leave her alone."
Public opinion, which at first had rather favoured Jack Harpe, now frowned upon him. He shouldn't have insulted the girl. No, sir, he had no business doing that. Be a good thing if he was arrested for it, perhaps. What a virtuous thing is public opinion.
"I ain't got a nickel, Judge," said Marie. "You'll have to trust me for it till the end of the week."
"I'll pay her fine," nipped in Racey, glad of an opportunity to annoy
Jack Harpe. "Here y' are, Judge. Ten dollars, you said."
It was a few minutes after he had eaten dinner that Racey Dawson presented himself at the door of Kansas Casey's shack. The door was open. Racey stood in the doorway and leaned the shovel against the wall of the room.
"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."