Racey nodded. "I expect McFluke would want to stay with Dale," he said, gently, "just as you'd want to go to Farewell after the coroner. Yo're shore it is the coroner, Thompson?"
"Say, how many times do you want me to tell you?" demanded the badgered Thompson. "Of course it's the coroner. In a case like this the coroner's gotta be notified."
"I expect," assented Racey. "I expect. But if yo're really goin' for the coroner, Thompson, what made you tell us when you first met us you were going for the sheriff?"
"Why," said Thompson without a quiver, "I'm a-goin' for him, too. I must 'a' forgot to say so at first."
"Yeah, I guess you did." Thus Racey, annoyed that Thompson had contrived to crawl through the fence. He had hoped that Thompson might be tempted to a demonstration, for which potentiality he, Racey, had prepared by removing his right hand from the saddle horn.
"It don't always pay to forget, Thompson," suggested Mr. Saltoun, coldly.
"It don't," Thompson assented readily. "And I don't—most always."
"Don't stay here any longer on our account, Thompson," said Racey.
"You've told us about enough."
"Try and remember it," Thompson bade him, and lifted his reins.
"We will, and, on the other hand, don't you forget yore sheriff and yore coroner."