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"What's the matter?" he demanded sharply. "Chip, we we've lost Cadwolloper!" Weary's voice was tragic. "Hell!" snapped Chip, lying down again. "Don't let that worry yuh." "And we've lost the herd, too," added Weary mildly. Chip got up and stayed up, and some of his remarks, Weary afterward reported, were scandalous.
His glance fell upon Weary's up-turned, slumber-blank face, and his memory reverted revengefully to the baiting of the night before.
"I wonder who those silver-mounted spurs are for, there on the tree? They've been put on since this afternoon can't yuh stretch your neck enough to read the name, Cal? They're the real thing, all right." Weary's dejection became more pronounced. "Oh, mamma! am I the only knock-kneed son-of-a-gun in this crowd?" he murmured, and turned disconsolately away.
With them, the time for profanity and for horseplay bluffing and judicious temporizing was past. There were other lips besides Weary's that were drawn tight and thin when they approached that particular band of sheep. More than one pair of eyes turned inquiringly toward him and away again when they met no answering look.
He had never sent back so much as a picture postal, and he had consequently not heard a word. But Weary's nature was ever hopeful except when he was extremely angry, and then he did not care much about anything. So now, he took it for granted things had gone along smoothly and that nothing would be changed.
Weary, sitting uneasily in the saddle looking at her, wondered if Irish really cared; or if, in Weary's place, he would have sat there so calmly and just looked at her. She was rather pretty, in a pink and white, weak way. He could easily imagine her marrying Spikes Weber for mere spite; what he could not imagine, was Irish in love with her.
"Yuh don't want to mind anything he says while he's like this; yuh know Weary's a good friend to yuh when he's sober. Get some strong coffee that'll straighten him out." "Py cosh, I not feed no drunk fools. I not care if it iss Weary. He hit mine jaw " "Aw, gwan! I guess yuh never get that way yourself," put in Happy Jack, ponderously sarcastic.
He slowed till the pinto, still moving with stiff, reluctant knees, came alongside, and struck him sharply with his quirt; the pinto sidled and Dock lurched over as far as Weary's rope would permit. "Come along, then!" admonished Weary, under his breath. The pinto snorted and ran backward until Weary wished he had been content with the pace of a snail.
The Little Doctor's going to help run the thing, and Rena Jackson and Lea Adams are in it and Annie Pilgreen. Her and Happy are down on the program for 'Under the Mistletoe', a tableau the red fire, kiss-me-quick brand." "Aw gwan!" cried Happy Jack, much distressed and not observing Weary's lowered eyelid. His perturbed face and manner gave the Happy Family an idea.
"I'll be hanged if I will!" retorted Chip. "If Weary's taken to lying about me I'll have it out with him if I break all the rest of my bones doing it. Do you think I'm going to stand a thing like that? I'll see " "Easy there, doggone it. I never heard Weary say't yuh got bucked off. Whizzer turned over on his head, 's near as I c'd make out fer dust. I took it he turned a summerset."
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