"I don't. Mac's the biggest man across the shoulders I ever seen."
"Good enough, Peaches. I've found out what I wanted. I had a fair idea before, but now I know. I hear you were acting boisterious and noisy out front of the dance hall last night?"
"What of it?"
"Oh, nothin', nothin' a-tall. Only I'd think it over—I'd think everythin' over good an careful, and after I'd done that I'd do what looked like the best thing to do—under the circumstances. That's all, Peaches. You can go now. I think yore friends are looking for you. I saw Doc Coffin peekin' round the corner of the dance hall a couple of times."
Peaches arose and faced Racey Dawson and Swing Tunstall. "I—" he began, and stopped.
"I—" prompted Swing.
"I what?" smiled Racey. "Speak right out, Peaches. Don't you care if you do hurt our feelin's. They're tough. They can stand it. Say what's on yore mind."
But Peaches did not say what was on his mind. He turned about and walked hurriedly away.
"So it was Jack Harpe who picked the cuffs," murmured Racey.
"Peaches, old timer, I didn't think you'd be so easy."
"Neither did I," said Swing. "And him a gambler. No wonder he ain't doin' so well."