"If you don't mean more'n you say," offered Thompson, "you don't mean much."
"Which is all the way you look at it," said Racey.
"And a damn good way, too," nipped in Mr. Saltoun, hurriedly, inwardly cursing Racey for not letting well enough alone. "What was the fight about, Thompson?"
"Cards," said Thompson, laconically, switching his eyes briefly to Mr.
Saltoun's face.
"And the stranger cold-decked him?" inquired Racey.
"Something like that, but I can't say for shore. I wasn't playing with him. Doc Coffin was, and so was Honey Hoke and Peaches Austin. Peaches said he kind of had an idea the stranger dealt himself a card from the bottom just before old Dale started to crawl his hump. But Peaches ain't shore about it. Seemin'ly old Dale is the only one was shore, and he's dead."
"And yo're going for the coroner, huh?" asked Racey.
"I said so."
"But you didn't say if anybody was chasing the stranger now. Are they?"
"Shore," was the prompt reply. "They all took out after him—all except McFluke, that is."