'Yuh never kin tell what's going to
happen, but we-all have a sneakin' idea that our man is jest goin' to
run away from any shorthorn you guys kin put up.'
"'Oh, is that so?' he jeers, real triumphant-like, 'well, I got a little
piece o' change that I'm willin' to put up on our man. How do yuh feel?'
"Waal, I wasn't goin' to let the guy bluff me, so I covers his money to
the tune o' fifty bucks. 'I s'pose Jenkins, the feller that nearly pulled
down the prize last year, is goin' to run fer you, ain't he' I asks,
never suspicionin' that he'd say anythin' but 'yes.'
"'Not any,' he answers, grinnin' satisfied like; 'we've got another man
this year, an' a streak o' greased lightnin' is plumb slow an' ploddin'
alongside him.'
"'An' who is this yere maverick?' I asks him, feelin' like somebody'd hit
me when I wasn't lookin'.
"'Johnson is his brand,' says the sport; 'stick around a while an' I'll
point him out t' yuh. There he is now,' he says sudden-like, pointin' to
a guy amblin' along the sidewalk with half a dozen kids taggin' at his
heels, 'there's the guy what's goin' to make your runners look like
candidates from a young ladies' finishing school.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112