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Updated: June 23, 2025
"You mean,—down there in the old—" "The old Thorpe house. I don't know what's got into the girl, Brady. First she swears she won't live in the house, and then she turns around,—just like that,—and moves in. Workmen all over the place, working overtime and all that sort of thing,—with Anne standing around punchin' 'em with a sharp stick if they don't keep right on the job.
"And say you growed up without breakin' your laig and went to punchin' cattle and earnin' your own money, and then mebby you got a job in the Ranger Service, ridin' the high trails and livin' free and independent; and suppose a mighty pretty gal was to come along and kind of let you take a shine to her, and you was doin' your plumb durndest to put by a little money, aimin' to trot in double harness some day; and then suppose your daddy was to offer you a half-interest in a growin' cattle business, where you could be your own boss and put by a couple of thousand a year.
Pete was about to say something when Brevoort touched him gently with his knee. "We was lookin' for a place like that," said Brevoort, suddenly loquacious. "We sure aim to see this town. We just been paid off we was workin' for the Bar-Cross and we figured on seein' a little high life a-fore we went to punchin' again. Is that hotel you was speakin' about open all night?" The conductor chuckled.
He's gettin' twenty cents a yard for it from the brickyard." "And that means the end of your teaming contract." Saxon saw the disaster in all its hugeness. "What about the brickyard people?" "Worried to death, though they've kept secret about it. They've had men out punchin' holes all over the hills for a week, an' that Jap chemist settin' up nights analyzin' the rubbish they've brought in.
"Why, Curly." "What is your occupation?" "What?" "How do you make your living?" "Punchin' cows. Not that I 'low it's any o' yore d d business." "Where do you reside?" "Where do I live?" "Yes." "Well, now, I don't know. My folks lives on the Brazos, an' I've been drivin' two years. Now I taken up a claim on the Smoky, out here. I 'low I'll go North right soon, to Wyoming maybe." "How old are you?"
"Will you look at the lumber he's whip-sawed!" Astonishment was in his voice! "Whip-sawin' lumber is the hardest work a man ever did. I'll bet the squaw was on the other end of that saw; I never heard of Dubois hiring help. Uh-huh, he uses the Carriboo riffles. Look at the work he's been to punchin' all those holes in that sheet-iron.
An' Tommy Kilbride the baker, he's been poundin' at the dough for thirty years, an' he's no better off than I am. But me noble Dan Dillon that began wid punchin' the heads of his neighbors, see where he is to-day. But he's worthy of it, an' I'd be the last to begrudge him his luck."
Why, I ain't ever worked a day for the Service." "I guess he wanted you to look me over," said Lorry, smiling. "Well, they's lots of time, 'less you're in a hurry." "If I can't get in the Service, I'll look up a job punchin'," said Lorry. "I got to get somethin'." Bondsman stalked in, licking his chops. He nuzzled Shoop's hand. Lorry snapped his fingers. Bondsman strode to him.
Men who had their teams nearly extricated were overwhelmed by fresh avalanches of dogs each animal well fed, well rested, and ripe for battle. "It's knock down an' drag out an' plow through!" Shorty yelled in his partner's ear. "An' watch out for your knuckles! You drag dogs out an' let me do the punchin'!" What happened in the next half hour Smoke never distinctly remembered.
He's a heck of a cook. Dished up th' grub one season when I was punchin' for th' Tin-Cup up in Montana," replied Frenchy. "Oh, he kin cook now, all right." replied Waffles. "That's about all he can cook. Useter wash his knives in th' coffee pot an' blow on di' tins. I chased him a mile one night for leavin' sand in th' skillet. Yu can have him I don't envy yu none whatever.
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