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I'll swar' to goodness, as the sayin' is, they ain't never see no water sence they was christened, if they ever was christened, which I don't believe no gospel preacher would ever so demean himself. An' as fer soap, say, they couldn't even spell it if you was to hand 'em the whole soap fact'ry literature of a fi'-cent daily noos-sheet.
"That guy's a tight one," said Billy, jerking his hand in the direction of the guardian of the free lunch. "I scoops up about a good, square meal for a canary bird, an' he makes me cough up half of it. Wants to know if I t'ink I can go into the restaurant business on a fi'-cent schooner of suds." Bridge laughed. "Well, you didn't do so badly at that," he said.
The half-breed chuckled, and leaned more powerfully to the sweep. "An 'magine me shakin' chaps fer overalls, an' this ole Stetson fer a fi'-cent cap, an' these nifty ridin' boots fer things as big as this scow . . . an' takin' back-talk from a two-by-five Pole I cud break over one knee 'n' kick the pieces tuh Medicine Hat. . . . But it won't be fer long now, Juno.
They're jest ter'ble, an' it seems to me we sure need a reg'ment o' United States Cavalry settin' around on horses an' field guns to pertect us, ef we're to farm this one-hossed layout. They're 'bad men, mum, miss which I made a mistake ag'in that's wot they are. I've read about 'em in the fi'-cent comics, so I sure know 'em when I see 'em. You can't never make no mistake.
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