"If you didn't come about the fine it must be something else important," said she, insultingly. "I shore oughta be set up, I suppose. So far it's always been me that's had to make all the moves." "'Moves?'" repeated Racey, frankly puzzled. "Moves," she mimicked. "Didn't you ever play checkers? Oh, nemmine, nemmine! Don't take it to heart. I don't mean nothin'. Never did. C'mon in an' set. Take a chair. That one. What do you want? Down feller, down!" The command was called forth by the violent entry of the yellow dog which, remembering Racey as a friend, flung itself upon him with whines and tail-waggings. "He's all right," said Racey, rubbing the rough head. "I just thought I'd ask you what you knew about Jack Harpe." Marie's narrowed eyes turned dark with suspicion. "Whadda you know about me an' Jack Harpe?" she demanded. "Not as much as I'd like to know," was his frank reply. "I ain't talkin'." Shortly. "Now, lookit here--" he began, wheedlingly. She shook her head at him. "S'no use. I don't tell everything I know." "Then you do know something about Jack Harpe?" "I didn't say I did." "You didn't. But--" "That's what the goat done to the stone wall. Look out you don't bust yore horns, too." "Meanin'?" "Meanin' you'll knock 'em off short before you get anything out o' me I don't want to tell you. And I tell you flat I ain't talkin' over Jack Harpe with you." "Scared to?" he hazarded, boldly. "You can give it any name you like. Pull up a chair. Dinner's most ready. They's enough for two." Despite the fact that he had just dined at the hotel he accepted her invitation in the hope that she could be persuaded to talk. And after dinner he smoked several cigarettes with her--still hoping. Finally, finding that nothing he could say was of any avail to move her, he took up his hat and departed. "Don't go away mad," she called after him. "I ain't," he denied, and went on, her mocking laughter ringing in his ears. After Racey was gone out of sight Marie turned back into her little house. There was no laughter on her lips or in her eyes as she sat down in a chair beside the table and stared across it at the chair in which Racey had been sitting. "He's a nice boy," she whispered under her breath, after a time. "I wish--I wish--" But what it was she wished it is impossible to relate, for, instead of completing the sentence, she hid her face in her hands and began to cry. Early next morning Racey Dawson and Swing Tunstall rode out of town by the Marysville trail. They were bound for the Bar S and a job. * * * * * "What have you been drinkin', Racey?" demanded Mr. Saltoun, winking at his son-in-law and foreman, Tom Loudon. The latter did not return the wink. He kept a sober gaze fastened on Racey Dawson. Racey was staring at Mr. Saltoun. His eyes began to narrow. "Meanin'?" he drawled.