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Updated: May 18, 2025
In the war just starting, the cattleman needed men of nerve to lead his forces. He offered a place to Clanton, who jumped at the chance to get on the pay-roll of Lee's father. "Bring yore friend Billie Prince to the store," suggested Snaith. "He's not workin' for Webb now. I can make a place for him, too." Billie came, listened to the proposition of the grim old-timer, and declined quietly.
You're going some if you get it straightened out in two weeks. Of course, you can shoot the leg full of cocaine and he'll run on it a little ways, but asking him to go a mile and a half confound it, old-timer! That's murdering a game horse. You're liable to have a hopeless cripple on your hands when it's over. I tell you, if Elisha was mine " "You'd own a real race hoss, son," said Old Man Curry.
The Bald-faced Kid, who lived by doing the best he could and preferred to be called a hustler rather than a tout, spoke from the tack-room interior. He was a privileged character at the Curry barn. "How does she look, old-timer? Going to clear up by noon?" Old Man Curry shook his head. "Well, no," said he. "I reckon not. Looks to me like reg'lar Noah weather, Frank.
A very natural professional caution, I assure you." "Caution! Hnh! Funny way you've got of being cautious, old-timer. I'd call it a fine way of heading down-stairs without waiting for the elevator." "I understand perfectly. So you have no settled plans for the future, I take it? Just ready for whatever turns up that looks promising?" Johnny grunted and looked at his watch.
"When I let up she was plumb convinced. She knows now what ailed you the day she came and you didn't meet her." "You dirty cur! And I thought you were a friend. You " "You thought right until you got to rooting a little too deep in the mud, old-timer. And let me tell you something. I was your friend when I told her.
"Frank," said the old man, "I wish you wouldn't be so blame keerless with your figures of speech. It don't sound pretty." The Bald-faced Kid took this reproof with a sober countenance, for he respected the old man's principles even if he did not understand them. "All right, old-timer. I'll take your word for it. Got a steady job, has he? For Heaven's sake, what doing?"
"Is that so?" yammered Swing, now over his head as far as repartee was concerned. "Is that so? What you gassing about Arizona for thisaway? You gonna renig on the trip?" "I'll bet there's plenty of good jobs we can find right here in Farewell," dodged Racey. "And vicinity," he amended. "Yep, Swing, old-timer, I'll bet the Bar S or the Cross-in-a-box would hire us just too quick. Shore they would.
The two cow hands looked at the beasts, identifying them with the facility of their breed. "Old Jim Banker, I reckon. In for a wrastlin' match with the demon rum. Anything you want to know about the Esmeraldas he can tell you, if you can make him talk." "Old Jim Banker? Old-timer, is he?" "Been a-soakin' liquor and a-dryin' out in the desert hereaways ever since fourteen ninety-two, I reckon.
I been talkin' to old wooden head here about the railroad comin' in." Tom's eyes twinkled. His friend guessed that he was trying to get a rise out of the old-timer. "He's sure some mossback. I been tellin' him the railroad's comin' through here an' Meeker right soon, but he can't see it. I reckon the toot of an engine would scare him 'most to death."
"Say, listen here, Old-timer, remember I been trouping man and boy for over forty year and it's hard to fool me you working?" He resented the persistent levity of manner, but was coerced by the very apparent real kindness in her tone. "Well," he looked about the set vaguely in his discomfort, "you see, right now I'm between pictures you know how it is."
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