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I was ridin' fer the Lazy Y outfit, an' fer quite a spell 'fore this tarford fever business the ol' man use to ride the barb wire along Beaver, reg'lar. Yeh know how loose ol' Lazy Y is with his change? A dollar don't loom no bigger to him than the side of Sugar Loaf Butte, an' it slips through his fingers as easy as a porkypine could back out of a gunnysack.
Is the offspring a-takin' his oats reg'lar? 'Lord! said Mrs. Mathews irrelevantly, subsiding into a chair, 'I thought you was dead. You never writ. 'That, said Mathews, 'was conseckens of a understanding clear and likewise to the point, atwixt me and Mas'r Dick. "Mum's the word," sez he. "Mum's the word," sez I. And that there was as it should be, no argifyin' provin' contrairiwise.
Your grandma says then she'd feel as if you had somebody to look after you. She always figgers, you know, that a man ain't capable of lookin' out for himself. There'd ought to be at least one woman to take care of him, see that he don't get his feet wet and goes to meetin' reg'lar and so on; if there could be two, so much the better. Mother would have made a pretty good Mormon, in some ways."
"Why do we have to masquerade? If we haven't touched the seals?" Lund barked at her: "I gave you credit for sharper wits," he said. "We've got to have everything so reg'lar they can't find an excuse for haulin' us in an' settin' fire to the schooner. They'd do it in a jiffy. We got to show 'em our clearance papers, an' we've got to tally up all down the line.
Their talk had lapsed into silence. MacLeod leaned back in his chair, pipe in hand, frowning abstractedly. "Man," he said at length, his bearded face wrinkled with a smile, "I wish ye were no a preacher wi' labors i' the vineyard of the Lord tae occupy yer time. I'd have ye do a job for me." "A job?" Thompson came out of his preoccupation. "Aye," MacLeod grunted. "A job. A reg'lar man's job.
An' I snum! there's Marty, too. He's workin' in his mother's garden reg'lar. I seen him.
Yours was dug by the last tenant, Jack Raintree, who allowed that he didn't want to 'take any Sobriente in his reg'lar whiskey and water. Well, the half-breed Kanaka cleared out after the old man's death, and so did that darter or niece; and the church, to whom old Sobriente had left this house, let it to Raintree for next to nothin'."
Rob took the chair that was offered him, squared his shoulders, and looked up with a pleasant smile at this blunt question. "No, I ain't that." "Have you ever killed anybody?" "No." "Are you a drunkard?" "I hate the stuff!" "Are you a fighter?" "Well, no, not a reg'lar one. I can't say I've never knocked a feller down, or squared up with him a bit, but I don't fight till I'm driven to it."
"Miss Vancourt ain't been to church once till now," said Adam, "An' she's only comin' now to show it to her friends. I doesn't want to think 'ard of her, for she's a sweet-looking little lady an' a kind one an' my Ipsie just worships 'er, an' what my baby likes I'm bound to like too but I do 'ope she ain't a 'eathen, an' that once comin' to church means comin' again, an' reg'lar ever arterwards.
The light's good an' all," she added. "Thank you," said Bobbie. "You're very kind. Where's your baby?" "Asleep in the cabin," said the woman. "'E's all right. Never wakes afore twelve. Reg'lar as a church clock, 'e is." "I'm sorry," said Bobbie; "I would have liked to see him, close to." "And a finer you never did see, Miss, though I says it." The woman's face brightened as she spoke.
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