"'Well, you're drawin' your dope from the wrong can,' says Toledo,
shufflin' for the door. 'Because,' says he, turnin' in the doorway,
'because, how in hell is a fella goin' to find any ants with two feet of
snow on the ground?'
"And then Toledo and me went out. It was a mighty cold night."
Overland Red rolled a cigarette, pausing in his narrative to see whether
Winthrop, who sat with bowed head, was asleep or not.
Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake," he said, smiling. "Very much awake. I
can see it all--you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing and
melting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescue
mission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacher
guy,' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong in
trying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach."
"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumb
unreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. He set
Toledo Blake to thinkin' which was somethin' new and original for
Toledo.
"It was nex' spring Toledo and me was travelin' out this way, inspectin'
the road-bed of the Santa Fe, when we runs onto a big red-ant's nest in
the sand alongside of the track.
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