"We have talked of birds," said he, wheedlingly. "Leave us now talk of centipedes."
"No," said Curry quietly. "No, I reckon not, Henry. There's something else to talk about. You got my telegram?"
"This afternoon," said Ashbaugh with a lingering glance at the bottle. "That's why I'm here."
"You've still got your place out on the Martinez road?" asked Old Man Curry.
"I can't get rid of it," was the answer.
"I'd like to take a hoss down there and put him up for a few weeks, Henry."
"The place is all yours!" said Ashbaugh with wide gestures. "All yours! A friend of mine can have anything I've got, and no questions asked. Where is this here horse?"
"They'll be takin' him out of a freight car about now," said Curry. "Could I git him down to your place to-night?"
"You can if you walk it."
"Is the road as good as it used to be?"