"I thought I noticed a feller off to the south of us as we come along," observed Loudon. "He was just a-boilin'. I only saw him the once as he slid by the mouth of a draw. Looked like he was trying to keep out of sight. Rode a gray hoss."
"Tweezy rode a gray," nodded Racey.
"Him, all right. What did he want here, Racey?"
"Offered Mis' Dale one thousand cold if she'd pull her freight."
"She ain't gonna do it, is she?" demanded the alarmed Mr. Saltoun.
Racey shook his head. "She's gonna stick."
"She must. Hell, yes. Those papers of Luke's are forged. I know they are."
"So does everybody else," put in Tom Loudon, "but if something don't turn up damn quick—" He broke off, shaking a dubious head.
"Something will," declared Racey, making his bluff a second time with an air of supreme confidence.
"You know something, Racey," prodded Mr. Saltoun who prided himself on his perspicacity. "Whadda you know?"