The Heart of the Range | Page 6

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 believed Lanpher capable of
anything. Which of course was unjust to the manager. His courage was
not quite sufficient to hold him abreast of the masters in wickedness.
But he was mean and cruel in a slimy way, and if left alone was prone
to make life miserable for someone. Invariably the someone was
incapable of proper defense. From Farewell to Marysville, throughout
the length and breadth of the great Lazy River country, Lanpher was
known unfavourably and disliked accordingly.
To his companion's sneering remark Lanpher made no intelligible reply.
He merely grunted as he reached for the gate to pull it shut. His
companion half turned (his back had from the first been toward Racey
Dawson), and Racey perceived the cold and Roman profile of a
long-jawed head. Then the man turned full in his direction and behold,
the hard features vanished, and the man displayed a good-looking
countenance of singular charm. The chin was a thought too wide and
heavy, a trait it shared in common with the mouth, but otherwise the
stranger's full face would have found favour in the eyes of almost any
woman, however critical.
Racey Dawson, at first minded to reveal his presence in the corral,
thought better of it almost immediately. While not by habit an
eavesdropper he felt no shame in fortuitously overhearing anything
Lanpher or the stranger might be moved to say. Lanpher merited no

consideration under any circumstances, and the stranger, in appearance
a similar breed of dog as far as morals went, certainly deserved no
better treatment. So Racey remained quietly where he was, and was
glad that besides the pony to whom he was ministering there were
several others between him and the men at the gate.
"Why don't you wanna appear in this business?" persisted the stranger,
pivoting on one heel in order to keep face to face with Lanpher.
"I gotta live here," was the Lanpher reply.
"Well, ain't I gotta live here, too, and I don't see anything round here to
worry me. S'pose old Chin Whisker does go on the prod. What can he
do?"
"'Tsall right," mumbled Lanpher, shutting the gate and shoving home
the bar. "You don't know this country as well as I do. I got trouble
enough running the 88 without borrowing any more."
"Now I told you I was gonna get his li'l ranch peaceable if I could. I got
it all planned out. I don't do anything rough unless I gotto. But I'm
gonna get old Chin Whisker out o' there, and you can stick a pin in
that."
"'Tsall right. 'Tsall right. You wanna remember ol' Chin Whisker ain't
the only hoss yo're trying to ride. If you think that other outfit is gonna
watch you pick daisies in their front yard without doing anything, you
got another guess. But I'll do what I said--and no more."
"I s'pose you think that by sticking away off yonder where the grass is
long nobody will suspicion you. If you do, yo're crazy. Folks ain't so
cross-brained as all that."
"Not so dam loud!" Lanpher cautioned, excitedly.
"Say, whatsa matter with you?" demanded the stranger, leaning back
against the gate and spreading his long arms along the top bar. "Which
yo're the most nervous gent I ever did see. The hotel ain't close enough

for