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"You'll have to see Derrick himself or Harran about that, Bismarck," interrupted Presley, trying to draw away. "That's something outside of me entirely." But Hooven was not to be put off. No doubt he had been meditating his speech all the morning, formulating his words, preparing his phrases. "Say, no, no," he continued. "Me, I wanta stay bei der place; seven yahr I hef stay.
Some waved greeting to Jack Fyfe, and he waved back in the hail-fellow fashion of the camps. "How's the frau, Lefty?" he inquired, after they had shaken hands. "Fine. Down to Vancouver. Sister's sick," Howe answered laconically. "House's all shipshape. Wanta eat here, or up there?" "Here at the camp, until we get straightened around," Fyfe responded.
"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. "I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep my job." "It's a very good party." "'S a very good job." "Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See it's pretty!" He held the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. "Huh!" Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth.
"This mo'nin'. They tried to keep it quiet, but it leaked out." "Whose money was it?" "Brad Steelman's pay roll and a shipment of gold for the bank." "Any idea who did it?" Steve showed embarrassment. "Why, no, I ain't, if that's what you mean." "Well, anybody else?" "Tha's what I wanta tell you. Two men were in the job. They're whisperin' that Em Crawford was one." "Crawford!
"I'll eat out of his hand any time," replied Bill. "Get your pony, Murphy." "I'll join your posse," suggested Murphy. "I bet I can ferret out more booze than any three of you." "Nothing doing!" growled Bill. "Should think you would have better taste than to wanta do that." Murphy shrugged his shoulders. "I want you to let me go up to that Greek fellow's place before I go," he said.
The youngest Mosher boy crept up and balanced himself unsteadily on one foot. In his right hand he held a cucumber, and on his face shone set determination. "Wanta fight," he cried, as the combatants began the inevitable preliminary sparring. "Goin'ta fight!" The next moment, a cucumber caught Silvey squarely in the eye.
"I wanta tell you he double-crossed you for fair, C.N. He's got a heluva nerve to come back here after playin' in with the police the way he done up there." "I've heard something about that," the fur-trader admitted cautiously. "You told me Tom an' you didn't exactly gee." "He'll never drive another bull-team for me again." West tacked to his pronouncement a curdling oath.
Why, they're four girls and a widow at home that if they knew how far Matthews was gettin' with the sign language they'd be gray-headed to-day.... Aw, well, Matthews, quit spoilin' this drawin'. Do you wanta get me and Admiral Sims into trouble with the department?" "Go ahead with your funeral, Steve," said Lieutenant Erskine "unless your power of invention has failed you."
"Cheer up, the worst is yet to come," he would chant, with never a qualm at the staleness of the slogan. "How yuh fixed for water? Better fill up your canteens yuh don't wanta git caught out between here and Ludlow with a boilin' radiator and not water enough. Got oil enough? Juan, you look and see. Can't afford to run low on oil, stranger.
And I'm going to tell him so." The cattleman's arm slid round her warm young body and drew her close. She was to him the dearest thing in the world, a never-failing, exquisite wonder and mystery. Sometimes even now he was amazed that this rare spirit had found the breath of life through him. "You wanta remember you're a li'l lady," he reproved.
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