My other pop was tellin' me you could git a man
with a thirty a whole heap farther than you could with any ole
forty-four or them guns. I shot heaps of rabbits with his."
"Well, we'll see. But you want to git over the idee of gettin' a man
with any gun. That goes with horse-tradin' and liquor and such. But
we sure aim to live peaceful, up here."
Meanwhile, Young Pete, squatting beside Annersley, amused himself by
spitting tobacco juice at a procession of red ants that trailed from
nowhere in particular toward the doorstep.
"Makes 'em sick," he chuckled as a lucky shot dissipated the procession.
"It's sure wastin' cartridges on mighty small game," remarked Annersley.
"Don't cost nothin' to spit on 'em," said Young Pete.
"Not now. But when you git out of chewin'-tobacco, then where you
goin' to git some more?"
"To the store, I reckon."
"Uh-huh. But where you goin' to git the money?"
"He was givin' me all the chewin' I wanted," said Pete.
"Uh-huh. Well, I ain't got no money for chewin'-tobacco. But I tell
you what, Pete. Now, say I was to give you a dollar a week for--for
your wages.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34