"Six-forty-two," he totalled. "Let's see, supper was a dollar an' four
bits, drinks two dollars, an' two dollars for this bottle of prune-juice
that's about gone already, an'--Hey, Bat, you're four bits shy! Frisk
yourself an' I'll play you a showdown for them four bits." The other
grinned and held a silver half dollar between his finger and thumb.
"_Non_! A'm ke'p dat four bit! Dat lucky four bit. A'm ponch hole in
heem an' car' heem roun' ma neck lak' de medicine bag. A'm gon' back
Nort'--me! A'm got no frien's. You de only friend A'm got. You give me
de las' four bit. You, give me de honch to play de t'irteen. A'm git
reech, an' den you mak' de bank, w'at you call, com' 'crost. Now A'm
goin' back to Montan' an' git me de job. Wat de hell!"
"Where's your outfit?" asked the Texan as he carefully stowed the money
in his pockets.
"Ha! Ma outfeet--A'm sell dat outfeet to git de money to com' back hom'.
A'm play wan leetle gam' coon can an' _voila_! A'm got no money. De
damn Greasaire she ween dat money an' A'm broke. A'm com' som'tam' on de
freight train--som'tam' walk, an' A'm git dees far. Tomor' A'm git de
freight train goin' Nort' an' som'tam' A'm git to Montan'. Eet ees ver'
far, but mebbe-so A'm git dere for fall round-up. An' Ba Goss, A'm
nevaire com' sout' no mor'.
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