"Same thing. You could 'a' got 'him if you wanted to. Yo're lucky, that's what it is. Yo're lucky. And you been lucky from the beginning. I ain't superstitious, but--" Here he lied. Like most gamblers Peaches was sadly superstitious. He looked at Racey, and there was something much akin to wonder on his countenance. He shook his head and was silent a long thirty seconds. "Yo're too lucky for me--I quit," he finished. "How much?" "Complete. I tell you, I don't buck no such luck as yores no longer. I'll never have none myself if I do. I'm goin'." Peaches Austin got to his feet and walked across the street to the hotel. Twenty minutes later Racey, sitting on the bench in front of the blacksmith shop, saw him issue from the hotel, carrying a saddle, packed saddlebags, and _cantenas_, blanket and bridle, and go to the hotel corral. Within three minutes Peaches Austin rode out from behind the hotel. As he passed the blacksmith shop he said "So long" to Racey. "See you later," nodded that serene young man. "I hope not," tossed back Peaches, and rode on down the trail that leads over Indian Ridge to Marysville and the south. Racey watched him out of town. Then he went to Mike Flynn's to see and, if it were possible, to cheer up his wounded friend, Swing Tunstall. But he was not allowed to see him. Swing, it appeared, had been given an opiate by Joy Blythe, who was acting as nurse, and she refused to awaken her patient for anybody. So there. Racey went to the Happy Heart to while away the remainder of the hour set by Judge Dolan. The bartender greeted him respectfully and curiously. So did several other men he knew. For that respect and that curiosity he understood the reason. It lay on a bunk in Nebraska Jones's shack. No one asked him to drink. People are usually a little backward in social intercourse with a citizen who has just killed his fellowman. Of course in time the coolness wears off. In this case the time would be short, Doc Coffin having been one of those that more or less encumber the face of the earth. But for the moment Racey felt his ostracism and resented it. He set down his drink half drunk and walked out of the Happy Heart. * * * * * "See anything of Luke Tweezy lately?" asked Judge Dolan when Racey was sitting across the table from him in the Judge's office. "Saw him to-day." "Where?" "Moccasin Spring." Judge Dolan nodded and rasped a hand across his stubbly chin. "Luke is in town now," said he. "I ain't lost any Luke Tweezys," observed Racey, looking up at the ceiling. "I wonder how long Luke is figuring on staying in town," went on Judge Dolan, sticking like a stamp to his original subject. "Nothing to me." "It might be. It might be. You never can tell about them things, Racey."