"'Lo, Jack. Howdy, Lanpher." Racey could not see the newcomer, but he recognized the voice. It was that of Punch-the-breeze Thompson, a gentleman well known to make his living by the ingenious capitalization of an utter lack of moral virtue. "Say, Jack," continued Thompson, "Nebraska has been plugged."
"Plugged?" Great amazement on the part of the stranger.
"Plugged."
"Who done it?"
"Feller by the name of Dawson."
"Racey Dawson?" nipped in Lanpher.
"Yeah, him."
Lanpher chuckled slightly.
"Why the laugh?" asked Jack Harpe.
"I'd always thought Nebraska could shoot."