Then you and me to the State House and file on this here
claim. You stay right in them kickie clothes and that puncher hat. We
file, see? The gents supportin' the bars and store corners will be so
interested in seein' me do you for your pile that they'll forget to
remember who I am, like I would be in me natural jeans. They'll size me
for a phoney promoter excavatin' your pocketbook. It's a chance--but we
got to take it."
"That's all very weird and wonderful," said Winthrop, "and not so very
flattering to me, but I am game. I'll furnish the expense money."
After the evening meal they drew nearer the fire and smoked in the chill
silence. The flames threw strange dancing shadows on the opposite cliff.
Winthrop, mindful of Overland's advice, slipped on his coat as the night
deepened. "About your adopting a disguise," he began; "I should think
you would look well enough clean-shaven and dressed in some stylish,
rough tweed. You have fine shoulders and--"
"Hold on, Billy! I'm a livin' statoo, I know. But listen! I got to go
the limit to look the part. You can't iron the hoof-marks of hell and
Texas out of my mug in a hundred years. The old desert and the border
towns and the bottle burned 'em in to stay.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148