"That's good hearing," Racey said, looking quite pleased. "Of course I was only judging by past performances."
"His gun caught," Doc Coffin explained, kindly.
"Why don't he try filing off his foresight?" inquired Racey, chattily. "Or else he could shoot through his holster. Lots of folks do business that way. I suppose now you'll be seeing Nebraska in a day or two maybe."
"I might," admitted Doc Coffin.
"Friend of his?" purred Racey.
"I might be." Doc Coffin's spare frame grew somewhat rigid.
"Well," Racey drawled softly, "I heard Nebraska's friends are looking for me. I'm here to save 'em the trouble of strainin' their eyes."
"So that's it, huh?" Doc Coffin grinned, as he spoke, like a grieving wolf. "They ain't no hurry, is they?"
"I expect I'll be round Farewell a spell," said Racey.
"Then they ain't no hurry," Doc Coffin told him smoothly.