TAKING FENCES

“’Lo, Peaches.”

Peaches Austin, standing at the Starlight bar, was raising a glass to his lips. But at the greeting he set down the liquor untasted, turned his head, and looked into the face of Racey Dawson.

“Whatsa matter, Peaches?” inquired Racey. “You don’t look glad to see me.”

“I ain’t,” Peaches said, frankly. “I don’t give a damn about seein’ you.”

“I’m sorry,” grieved Racey, edging closer to the gambler. “Peaches, yo’re breaking my heart with them cruel words.”

At this the bartender removed hastily to the other end of the bar. He sensed he knew not what, and he felt instead of curiosity a lively fear. Racey Dawson was the most unexpected sport.

Peaches looked nervously at Racey. A desperate resolve began to formulate itself in the brain of Peaches Austin. His right arm tensed. Slowly his hand slid toward the edge of the bar.

“Why, no,” said Racey, who had never been more wide-awake than at that moment, “I wouldn’t do anything we’d all be sorry for, Peaches. That is, all of us but you yoreself. You might not be sorry or anythin’ else.”

This was threatening language, plain and simple. But it was no bluff. Peaches knew that Racey meant every word he said. Peaches’ right hand moved no farther.

“Peaches,” said Racey, “le’s go where we can have a li’l private talk.”

“All right,” Peaches acquiesced, shortly, and left the saloon with Racey.

On the sidewalk they were joined by Swing Tunstall. The latter fell into step on the other side of Peaches Austin.

“Is he coming, too?” queried the gambler, with a marked absence of cordiality in expression and tone.

“He is,” answered Racey.

“I thought this talk was gonna be private.”

“It is only the three of us. We wouldn’t think of letting anybody else horn in. You can rest easy, Peaches. We’ll take care of you.”

The gambler didn’t doubt it. His wicked heart sank accordingly. He knew that he had been a bad, bad boy, and he conceived the notion that Nemesis was rolling up her sleeves, all to his ultimate prejudice.

He perceived in front of the dance hall Doc Coffin and Honey Hoke, and plucked up heart at once. But Racey saw the pair at the same time, and said, twitching Peaches by the sleeve, “We’ll turn off here, I guess.”

Peaches turned perforce and accompanied Racey and Swing into the narrow space between the express office and a log house. When they came out into the open Racey obliqued to the left and piloted his companion to a large log that lay among empty tin cans, almost directly in the rear of and about fifty yards away from Dolan’s warehouse.

“Here’s a good place,” said Racey, indicating the log. “Good seats, plenty of fresh air, and nobody round to bother us. Sidown, Peaches.”

Peaches sat as requested. The two friends seated themselves one on his either hand. Racey laughed gently.

“Doc Coffin and Honey looked kind of surprised to see you with us,” he remarked with enjoyment, “didn’t they, Peaches?”

“I didn’t notice,” lied Peaches.

“It don’t matter,” nodded Racey. “See that pile of dirt over against the back wall of Dolan’s warehouse, Peaches?”

“I ain’t blind.”

“No, then maybe you’ve heard how and why it come to be dug and all?”

“I ain’t deaf, neither.”

Racey smiled his approval. “I always said you had all yore senses except the common variety, Peaches.”

“Hop ahead with yore private talk,” grunted the badgered gambler.

“Gimme time, gimme time. It don’t cost anything. Whadda you think of that hole, Peaches?”

“Good big hole,” replied Peaches, conservatively.

“Too big that is, too big for just McFluke, or for any other feller the size of McFluke.”

“What of it?”

“Don’t be in a hurry, Peaches, and you’ll last longer. Did you know Mac’s handcuffs were picked open?”

“How picked open?”

“Whoever opened ’em didn’t use a key,” Racey explained. “They were picked open with a piece of bale-wire and a collar-needle.”

“I heard that.”

“I thought maybe so. But did you ever think that a feller has got to have a good and clever pair of hands to pick a lock with only a collar-needle and bale-wire?”

“All that stands to reason,” admitted Peaches.

“There can’t be a great many fellers like that. No, not many not around here, anyway. You’ll find such sports in the big cities mainly.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Swing Tunstall, staring hard at Peaches, “I’ll bet you a hundred even they ain’t more than one or two such experts in the whole territory.”

“Whadda you think, Peaches?” inquired Racey.

“Swing may be right,” said Peaches, preserving a wooden countenance. “I dunno.”

“Shore about that?” Sharply.

“Shore I’m shore. Why not?”

“You looked sort of funny when you said it. Well, then, Peaches, we’ll go back to our hole yonder. It’s reasonable to suppose that fellers hustlin’ to dig it and without any too much time wouldn’t make it any bigger than they had to. How about it, huh?”

“Guess so, maybe.”

“Aw right, I told you a while ago the hole was too big for McFluke. Why was it made too big for McFluke?”

“Damfino.”

“So as to let in the feller who was to pick open Mac’s handcuffs.”

“Well, what does that prove?”

“It proves that the expert who set Mac loose was a bigger man across the shoulders than McFluke. Now who all around here, besides Kansas Casey, is wider across the shoulders than McFluke?”

Peaches wrinkled his forehead. “I dunno,” he said after a space.

“Think again, Peaches, think again. Don’t you know anybody who’s bigger sidewise than McFluke?”

“I don’t. Mac’s the biggest man across the shoulders I ever seen.”

“Good enough, Peaches. I’ve found out what I wanted. I had a fair idea before, but now I know. I hear you were acting boisterious and noisy out front of the dance hall last night?”

“What of it?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’ a-tall. Only I’d think it over I’d think everythin’ over good an careful, and after I’d done that I’d do what looked like the best thing to do under the circumstances. That’s all, Peaches. You can go now. I think yore friends are looking for you. I saw Doc Coffin peekin’ round the corner of the dance hall a couple of times.”

Peaches arose and faced Racey Dawson and Swing Tunstall. “I ” he began, and stopped.

“I ” prompted Swing.

“I what?” smiled Racey. “Speak right out, Peaches. Don’t you care if you do hurt our feelin’s. They’re tough. They can stand it. Say what’s on yore mind.”

But Peaches did not say what was on his mind. He turned about and walked hurriedly away.

“So it was Jack Harpe who picked the cuffs,” murmured Racey. “Peaches, old timer, I didn’t think you’d be so easy.”

“Neither did I,” said Swing. “And him a gambler. No wonder he ain’t doin’ so well.”