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He may have gone hunting or to Denver or Los Angeles." "No, he didn't do any one of the three. He was either murdered or else hid out in the hills by them that had a reason for it." "Do you suspect some one?" "I do," answered Ryan promptly. "If he was killed, two tinhorn gamblers did it. If he's under guard in the hills, the Rutherford gang have got him." "The Rutherfords, the same ones that ?"
They make me think of a pack of wolves that's got a weak one down; he's outnumbered and can't fight back, so jump him! tear him! They're roarin' at me to 'do somethin' Tinhorn Frank, Symes, Parrott, the whole outfit of 'em. Say, Dago, I wasn't raised to fight women." "Does your chivalry extend to the lady doc?"
The Bald-faced Kid had never entertained any doubts upon this subject. He remained silent, the thin edge of a grin playing about his lips. "I hope you ain't been trying to show any tinhorn gamblers the error of their ways by ruining 'em financially," said the old man, one drowsy eye upon the Kid's face. "That's one of the things what just naturally can't be done.
He had become wild years before, and was now nothing more or less than a gambler, suspected of being a cheat and a "short-card operator." "He was a tinhorn, all right," said Wise, "and fer the life of me I don't know how a woman like Ma Thomas could have such a worthless rake fer a son. He was a queer-lookin' hombre one brown eye and one black eye." "Ma loves him, though.
It is the gambling instinct in men and women that keeps the stock exchanges going, and industrial stocks, manipulated by those who control the prices, is tinhorn gambling, as much as pulling faro cards from a silver box in a brace game, where the dealer gets a rake-off, the same as the commission man, who deals the cards in stock or wheat.
Gordon counted out the money reluctantly, while Izzy explained that they were going to be cops. The old man shook his head, estimating what was left to Gordon. "Enough to buy a corporal's job, pay for your suit, and maybe get by," he decided. "Don't do it, cobber. You're the wrong kind. You take what you're doing serious. When you set out to tinhorn a living, you're a crook.
"Did it tell how a freckled cow-punch rode a fat tinhorn on his spurs?" asked Hart. "Bet he wears stovepipes on his laigs next time he mixes it with Dave," suggested one coffee-brown youth. "Well, looks like the show's over for to-night. I'm gonna roll in." Motion carried unanimously. Wakened by the gong, Dave lay luxuriously in the warmth of his blankets.
He voiced a protest, but the miner forcibly overbore it: "Say, I eat up this shell stuff!" he declared. "It's my meat, and I've trimmed every tinhorn that ever came to my town. There's three hundred dollars; you cover it, and you cover this boy's bet, too." The fellow winked reassuringly at Phillips. "You heard him say the sky was his limit, didn't you?
"Didn't take you more'n a week to change your mind about pullin' it off with that tinhorn scrapper in the courts, did it?" "No," said Winton. "'Tain't none o' my business, but I'd like to know what stampeded you." "A telegram," shortly. "It was a put-up job to have me locked up on a criminal charge, and so hold me out another day." Biggin grinned. "The old b'iler-buster again.
Percy Parrot chancing to observe "Tinhorn Frank" sliding toward the door with two unopened bottles of champagne protruding from his coat pockets made a low tackle and clasped him about the ankles. As "Tinhorn" lay prone he was shamed in vivid English by the graceful barber while the new plasterer excused himself from his partner long enough to kick the prostrate ingrate in the ribs. Mrs.
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