said you had business in
Arizona."

"Shore I have, and shore I'm going. But first I gotta give Nebraska's
friends a chance to draw cards. A chance, y' understand."

"You'll be killed," she told him, white-lipped.

"Why, no," said he. "Not never a-tall. Drawing cards is one thing and
playing the hand out is a cat with another kind of tail. I got hopes
they won't get too rough with me."

"Well, of all the stubborn damn fools I ever saw--" began the girl,
angrily.

At which Racey Dawson laughed aloud.

"That's all right," she snapped. "You can laugh. Might 'a' knowed you
would. A man is such a plumb idjit. A feller does all she can to show
him the right trail out, and does he take it? He does not. He laughs.
That's what he does. He laughs. He thinks it's funny. You gimme a
pain, you do!"

On the instant she jerked her pony round, whirled her quirt
cross-handed, and tore down the back-trail at full gallop.

"Aw, hell," said Racey, looking after the fleeing damsel regretfully.
"I clean forgot to ask her about the rest of Nebraska's friends."

CHAPTER IV

THE OLD LADY

"Hope Old Man Dale is home," said Racey to himself when he saw ahead of
him the grove of cottonwoods marking the location of Moccasin Spring.
"But he won't be," he added, lugubriously. "I never did have any
luck."

He passed the grove of trees and opened up the prospect of house and
stable and corral with cottonwood and willow-bordered Soogan Creek in
the background.

"Changed some since I was here last," he muttered in wonder. For
nesters as a rule do not go in for flowers and shrubs. And here,
besides a small truck garden, were both--all giving evidence of much
care and attention.

Racey dismounted at the corral and approached the kitchen door. A
fresh young voice in the kitchen was singing a song to the brave
accompaniment of a twanging banjo:

"_When I was a-goin' down the road
With a tired team an' a heavy load,
I cracked my whip an' the leader sprung,
An' he almost busted the wagon tongue.
Turkey in the straw, ha! ha! ha!
Turkey in_--"

The singing stopped in the middle of a line. The banjo went silent
in the middle of a bar. Racey looked in at the kitchen door and saw,
sitting on a corner of the kitchen table, a very pretty girl. One knee
was crossed over the other, in her lap was the mute banjo, and she was
looking straight at him.

Racey, heartily and internally cursing himself for having neglected