"Oh, he went up town a while ago."
"Is Curly here?"
"Yes, he's around. Just got in the other day. What you goin' to do?"
"Oh, I'm waiting to see Curly. I've got to get to work and see if I can't make a dollar or two. I want to frame in with some good tribe."
"Well, Curly hasn't been out for a while. He'll be glad to see you."
"Is Gus with him?"
"Oh, no. Gus got settled over in Illinois somewhere--didn't you hear? The boys say he's in wrong. But wait! Curly'll show up after a while."
"Well, I'm hipped, and I don't want to get you in trouble, Mrs. Shanteaux, but if Kouka gets a flash at me, it's all off."
"Oh, you plant here, my boy," she said in a motherly way, "till Curly comes."
The tenderloin awoke earlier than usual that day, for it was Saturday, and the farmers were in town. In the morning they would be busy in Market Place, but by afternoon, their work done, their money in their pockets, they would be free, and beginning at the cheap music halls, they, especially the younger ones, would drift gradually down the line, and by night they would be drinking and carousing in the dives.