"Buck," he said, "Hoppy told me he went broke playing poker over in
Grant with Dave Wilkes and them two Lawrence boys, an' that shore
explains it all. He's got pack sores from carrying his unholy licking.
It was due to come for him, an' Dave Wilkes is just the boy to deliver
it. That's the whole trouble, an' I know it, an' I'm damned glad they
trimmed him. But he ain't got no right of making _us_ miserable because
he lost a few measly dollars."
"Yo're wrong, son; dead, dead wrong," Buck replied. "He takes his
beatings with a grin, an' money never did bother him. No poker game that
ever was played could leave a welt on him like the one we all mourn, an'
cuss. He's been doing something that he don't want us to know--made a
fool of hisself some way, most likely, an' feels so ashamed that he's
sore. I've knowed him too long an' well to believe that gambling had
anything to do with it. But this little trip he's taking will fix him
up all right, an' I couldn't 'a' picked a better man--or one that I'd
rather get rid of just now."
"Well, lemme tell you it's blamed lucky for him that you picked him to
go," rejoined Johnny, who thought more of the woeful absentee than he
did of his own skin. "I was going to lick him, shore, if it went on
much longer. Me an' Red an' Billy was going to beat him up good till he
forgot his dead injuries an' took more interest in his friends.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133