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The cab stopped at the house of a doctor and the shoulder was dressed. The doctor made one pardonable mistake. "Get your wife to give you this sleeping powder if you find you can't sleep," he said. "Y'betcha," answered Johnnie cheerfully. Kitty looked at him reproachfully and blushed. She scolded him about it after they reached the apartment where they lived. Her new fiancé defended himself.
If I had a woman friend some one to tell me what was best " Johnnie slapped his hand on his knee, struck by a sudden inspiration. "Say! Y'betcha, by jollies, I've got 'er the very one! You're damn you're sure whistlin'. We got a lady friend, Clay and me, the finest little pilgrim in New York. She's sure there when the gong strikes. You'd love her. I'll fix it for you right away.
"So he's a friend of this second-story bird, is he?" "Y'betcha!" chirped up Johnnie, "and I'm plumb tickled to take his dust too. Now about this yere young lady " Jerry caught him hard on the side of the jaw with a short arm jolt. The range-rider hit the pavement hard. Slowly he got to his feet nursing his cheek. "What yuh do that for, doggone it?" he demanded resentfully.
We'll get Lindsay out of this hole all right." "You're dawg-goned whistlin'. Y'betcha, by jollies!" agreed the Runt, immensely cheered by Whitford's confidence. "We been drug into this an' we'll sure hop to it." "When did you see Clay last? How did he come to be in that gambling-house? Did he say anything to you about going there?" The girl's questions tumbled over each other in her hurry.
"Y'betcha; it's burnin' a hole in my pocket. Say, you blamed ol' horntoad, howcome you not to stay for the finals? Folks was plumb disappointed we didn't ride it off." "Tell you about that later. How long you figurin' to stay in Denver, Cole?" "I dunno. A week, mebbe. Fellow at the Empress wants me to go on that circuit an' do stunts, but I don't reckon I will.
"Y'betcha, by jollies," agreed his bandy-legged shadow. None the less Johnnie was distressed. He believed that his friend was concealing an aching heart beneath all this attention to impending details. As a Benedict he considered it his duty to help the rest of the world get married too. A bachelor was a boob. He didn't know what was best for him. Same way with a girl.
Will you bring her to see me this afternoon, Johnnie?" she asked. His face was one glad grin. "I sure will. Y'betcha, by jollies." He did. To Beatrice, busy writing a letter, came Jenkins some hours later. "A young person to see you, Miss Whitford." He said it with a manner so apologetic that it stressed his opinion of the social status of the visitor. "What kind of a person?"
"Clay's sure one straight-up son-of-a-gun. You'd ought to 'a' seen how he busted New York open to find you." "Did he?" Johnnie told the story of the search with special emphasis on the night Clay broke into three houses in answer to her advertisement. "I never wrote it. I never thought of that. It must have been " "It was that scalawag Durand, y'betcha. I ain't still wearin' my pinfeathers none.
"Em Crawford won't sign unless he's a mind to." "Take my advice, Brad. Collect the kid, an' you'll sure have Em hogtied. He sets the world an' all by her. Y'betcha he'll talk turkey then," predicted Miller. "Are we fightin' kids?" the squat puncher wanted to know. "Did I ask your advice, Shorty?" inquired Steelman acidly. The range-rider grumbled an indistinct answer.
Brad let out the exultant rebel yell he had learned years before in the Confederate army. "What'd I tell you about that boy? Ain't I knowed him since he was a li'l' bit of a tad? He's a go-getter, Tom is. Y'betcha!" Jessie's heart was singing too, but she could not forbear a friendly gibe at him. "I suppose Win Beresford wasn't there at all. He hadn't a thing to do with it, had he?"
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