Marie showed her teeth in a laugh. "I ain't a-scared of any such breed of chunker as Rack Slimson," said she, calmly. "I can manage him my own self. You goin' back to Farewell, Racey?"
"Right now."
"Then I'll be going with you."
"You'll do no such a thing. There's no sense in yore running into trouble thataway. You'll come in to Farewell after me and from another direction."
"Shore, I was going to. I was only gonna ride along with you part way."
Racey shook his head. "Wouldn't be sensible, that wouldn't. Somebody might see you. You come along later like I told you. Me and Rack will travel together."
"I was goin' to the 88," protested Rack.
"Yo're mistaken," Racey told him, firmly. "Yo're going to
Farewell—with me. Ain't you?"
"I s'pose so," Rack Slimson capitulated.
"Then c'mon. Get a-goin'."