"This mortgage of Old Man Dale's now—you figurin' on foreclosin' if he can't pay?"
"Whadda you know about Dale's mortgage?"
"I heard Lanpher yawpin' about it. He talks too loud sometimes, don't he? You gonna foreclose on him, I suppose?"
"Like that!" Luke Tweezy snapped his teeth together with a click.
"But foreclosing takes time. You can't sell a man up the minute his mortgage is due. There's got to be notices in the papers and the like of that. Suppose now he gets to borrow the money some'ers before the sale? He'll have plenty of time to look round."
"Who'd lend him money?"
"Old Salt would. He's tight, but he'd rather have Dale at Moccasin Spring than someone else, and he'd lend Dale money rather than have him drove out."
"Shucks, he wouldn't lend him a dime. I know Old Salt. Don't fret, we'll foreclose when we get ready."
"I ain't fretting," said Racey. "You'll foreclose, huh? Aw right. I just wanted to be shore. You can go now, Luke."
Thus dismissed Tweezy rose to his feet and glared down at Racey
Dawson. His little eyes shone with spite.