"You can't git no more grub-stake here without the cash," he said to
Jim. "And now you've come, you can pony up on the bill you 'ain't yet
squared."
"So?" said Jim.
"You bet your boots it's so, and you can't begin to pungle up a minute
too soon!" was the answer.
"I reckon you'd ask a chicken to pungle up the gravel in his gizzard if
you thought he'd picked up a sliver of gold," Jim drawled, in his lazy
utterance. "And an ordinary chicken, with the pip thrown in, could
pungle twice to my once."
"Ain't got the stuff, hey?" said Parky. "Broke, I s'pose? Then maybe
you'll git to work, you old galoot, and stop playin' parson and
goody-goody games. You don't git nothing here without the chink. So
perhaps you'll git to work at last."
A red-nosed henchman of the gambler's put in a word.
"I don't see why you 'ain't gone to work," he said.
"Don't you?" drawled Jim, leaning on the counter to survey the speaker.
"Well, it looks to me as if you found out, long ago, that all work and
no play makes a man a Yankee."
"I ain't no Yankee, you kin bet on that!" said the man.
"That's pretty near incredible," drawled Jim.
"And I ain't neither," declared the gambler, who boasted of being
Canadian. "Don't you forget that, old boy.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111