Racey paused to flatten an ear at the kitchen door. He heard nothing, and tiptoed along the wall to the window of the room next the kitchen. The ground plan of the house was almost an exact square. There was a room in each angle. The office, which Racey knew contained the safe, was diagonally across from the kitchen. Racey, halting at the window of the room next the kitchen, was somewhat surprised to find it open. He stuck in his head and saw a faint glow beyond the half-closed door of the office. The glow seemed to be brighter near the floor. Racey listened intently. He heard a faint grumble and now and then a squeak. He crouched beneath the window and removed his boots. Then he crawled over the sill and hunkered down on the uncarpeted floor. The floor boards did not creak. Still crouching, his arms extended in front of him, he made his way silently across the room, skirting safely in the process two chairs and a table, and stood upright behind the crack of the door. Looking through the crack he perceived that the glow he had seen from the window emanated from a tin can pierced with several holes. The dim, uncertain light revealed the figure of a tall and hatless man kneeling beside the safe. The man's back was toward the lighted tin can. One of the tall man's hands was slowly turning the knob of the combination. The side of the man's head was pressed against the front of the safe near the combination. Racey could not see the man's face. Across the window of the room two blankets had been hung. The door into the other front room was open. Then suddenly the doorway was no longer a black void. A man stood there--a fat man with a stomach that hung out over the waistband of his trousers. There was something very familiar about the figure of that fat man. The fat man leaned against the doorjamb and pushed back his wide black hat. The light in the tin can illumined his countenance dimly. But Racey's eyes were becoming accustomed to the half darkness. He was able to recognize Jacob Pooley--Fat Jakey Pooley, the register of the district, whose home was in Piegan City. "You ain't as fast as you used to be," observed Fat Jakey in a soft whisper. "Shut up!" hissed the kneeling man, and turned his face for an instant toward Fat Jakey, so that the light shone upon his features. It was Jack Harpe. "What's biting your ear?" Fat Jakey asked, good-naturedly. "I've told you more'n once to let what's past alone," grumbled Jack Harpe. "Hell, there's nobody around." "Nemmine whether they is or not. You get out of the habit." "Rats," sneered Fat Jakey. "What was that?" Jack Harpe's figure tautened in a flash. "Rats," repeated Fat Jakey. "I thought I heard something," persisted Jack Harpe. "You heard rats," chuckled Fat Jakey. "You're nervous, that's what's the matter, or else you ain't able to open the safe." "I can open the safe all right," growled Jack Harpe, bending again to his work.