He'll bob out on top like a cork in a water bar'l. Say, Jake Harnach'll git his feathers trimmed or I don't know a 'deuce-spot' from a 'straight flush." Which sentiment spoke volumes for his opinion of the man who had just left him. Forks died away in a shimmering haze of heat as Tresler rode out over the hard prairie trail.
"You'll get right out an' huyk them kiddies off'n those dumps," cried Bill sharply. "You got no more sense in your idjot head than to slep when your eyes shut. Diggin' worms on the dumps! Gee! Say, if it ain't enough to give 'em bile and measles, an' an' spots, then I don't know a 'deuce-spot' from a hay-rake.
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