"How'n hell do I know?" Irish was getting a temper to match
their own.
"Well, why don't yuh know? What do yuh think you're out here
for? To tell us you think it's going to rain? If we was all
of us like you, there'd be nothing to it for the nester-
bunch. It's a wonder you come alive enough to ride out this
way at all! I don't reckon you've even got anything to drink!
"Pink paused a second, saw no move toward producing anything
wet and cheering, and swore disgustedly. "Of course not! You
needed it all yourself! So help me Josephine, if I
was as low-down ornery as some I could name I'd tie myself to
a mule's tail and let him kick me to death! Ain't got any
grub! Ain't got--"
Irish interrupted him then with a sentence that stung. Irish,
remember, distinctly approved of himself and his actions.
True, he had forgotten to bring anything to eat with him, but
there was excuse for that in the haste with which he had left
his own breakfast. Besides how could he be expected to know
that the cattle had been driven away down here, and
scattered, and that the Happy Family would not have overtaken
them long before? Did they think he was a mind-reader?
Pink, with biting sarcasm, retorted that they did not. That
it took a mind to read a mind.
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