You might need a little loose change if
that girl should happen to get thirsty between dances."
"Jest leave it lay," retorted Purdy; "an' at that, I'll bet I buy her
more drinks than what you do."
Tex laughed: "Sure. But there ain't nothin' in buyin' 'em drinks.
I've bought 'em drinks all night an' then some other _hombre_'d step in
an'----"
"I'd bet yeh on _that_, too. I didn't notice her fallin' no hell of a
ways fer you."
"Mebbe not. I wasn't noticin' her much. I was kind of studyin' the
pilgrim that was along with her."
"What's he got to do with it?"
"That's what I was tryin' to figger out. But, hey, Cinnabar, how about
that drink? I'm dry as a post-hole."
"Fill 'em up, Cinnabar. I'm makin' this noise," seconded Purdy. And
as the Texan turned to greet an acquaintance, he caught out of the tail
of his eye the glance that flashed between Purdy and the bartender.
Noticed, also out of the tail of his eye, that, contrary to custom,
Cinnabar filled the glasses himself and that a few drops of colourless
liquid splashed from the man's palm into the liquor that was shoved
toward him. The Texan knew that Purdy had watched the operation
interestedly and that he straightened with an audible sigh of relief at
its conclusion. "Come on, drink up!" Purdy raised his glass as Tex
faced the bar with narrowed eyes.
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