"
"Well," said Andy Green quietly, "that's all right. We're
going to hold 'em."
The Old Man lifted his bent head and looked from one to
another. Pride shone in his eyes, that had lately stared
resentment. "Yuh know, don't yuh, the biggest club they can
use?" He leaned forward a little, his lips working under his
beard.
"Sure, we know. We'll look out for that." Weary smiled
hearteningly.
"We want a good lawyer to draw up those mortgages," put in
the Native Son lazily. "And we'll pay eight per cent.
interest."
"Doggonedest crazy bunch ever I struck," grumbled the Old Man
with grateful insincerity. "What you fellers don't think of,
there ain't any use in mentioning. Oh, Dell! Bring out that
jug Blake sent me! Doggoned thirsty bunch out here--won't
stir a foot till they sample that wine! Got to get rid of 'em
somehow--they claim to be full uh business as a jack rabbit
is of fleas! When yuh want to git out and round up them cows?
Wagon's over on Dry creek som'ers--or ought to be. Yuh might
take your soogans and ride ove' there tomorrow or next day
and ketch 'em. I'll write a note to Chip and tell 'im what's
to be done. And while you're pickin' your bunch you can draw
wages just the same as ever, and help them double-dutch
blisterin' milk-fed pilgrims with the calf crop.
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