smoking at
the muzzle. The burly youth put a hand to his shoulder. The fingers
came away red. Racey was glad he had not killed him. He had not
intended to. But accidents will happen.

He stepped forward and kicked the burly youth's discarded sixshooter
into the middle of the street. He looked about him. The girl and her
dog had vanished.

Kansas Casey had taken her place apparently. From windows and doorways
along the street peered interested faces. One knew that they were
interested despite their careful lack of all expression. It is never
well to openly express approval of a shooting. The shooter undoubtedly
has friends, and little breaches of etiquette are always remembered.

Racey Dawson looked at Kansas Casey and shoved his sixshooter down
into its holster.

"It was an even break," announced Racey.

"Shore," Kansas nodded. "I seen it. There'll be no trouble--from us,"
he added, significantly.

The deputy sheriff knelt beside the wounded man. Racey Dawson went
into the Happy Heart. He felt that he needed a drink. When he came out
five minutes later the burly youth had been carried away. Remained a
stain of dark red on the sidewalk where he had been sitting. Piggy
Wadsworth, the plump owner of the dance-hall, legs widespread and arms
akimbo, was inspecting the red stain thoughtfully. He was joined by
the storekeeper, Calloway, and two other men. None of them was aware
of Racey Dawson standing in front of the Happy Heart.

"Was it there?" inquired Calloway.

"Yeah," said Piggy. "Right there. I seen the whole fraycas. Racey
stood here an'--"

At this point Racey Dawson went elsewhere.

CHAPTER III

THE TALL STRANGER

"You'll have to manage it yoreself." Lanpher, the manager of the 88
ranch, was speaking, and there was finality in his tone.

"You mean you don't wanna appear in the deal a-tall," sneered his
companion.

Racey Dawson, who had been kneeling on the ground engaged in bandaging
a cut from a kick on the near foreleg of the Dale pony when the two
men led their horses into the corral, craned his neck past the pony's
chest and glanced at Lanpher's tall companion. For the latter's words
provoked curiosity. What species of deal was toward? Having ridden for
Lanpher in the days preceding his employment by the Cross-in-a-box
and consequently provided with many opportunities for studying the
gentleman at arm's-length, Racey naturally assumed that the deal was a
shady one. Personally, he bel