"The next time you won't be so smart!" Leon cried, then paused in consternation, his eyes riveted on the scrambled mixture in the box. "But mine eggs!" he exclaimed, suddenly suspicious. "Who pays for the eggs? There vas twelve dozen—they are worth seventy cents a dozen—that is more as eight dollars. Pay me for the eggs!"
"Pay, hell!" Skinny said. "I didn't agree to furnish no eggs! You won my fifty cents and th' Ramblin' Kid gave it to you—"
"That's right, Leon," the Ramblin' Kid chuckled, "you got th' four-bits—that's all you won!"
"But pay me—" Leon whined.
"I'll pay you, you dirty crook!" Skinny snapped as he slapped the soppy, egg-splattered shirt in Leon's face. "I'll pay you with that! The next time," he added as he and the Ramblin' Kid started down the street—"anybody asks for a size fifteen shirt don't give them a sixteen and a half!"
The day was spent idling about town waiting for Sabota to return so Skinny could get some whisky and drown his disappointment in love in intoxicated forgetfulness.
After supper Skinny and the Ramblin' Kid went to the picture show—Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays were "movie nights" in Eagle Butte—and saw a thrilling "wild-west" drama in which a band of Holstein milk cows raced madly through an alfalfa field in a frenzied, hair-raising stampede! When the show was over the Ramblin' Kid started toward the livery barn.
"What you going to do?" Skinny queried.
"I was just goin' to get Captain Jack," the Ramblin' Kid replied.
"What for?" Skinny asked as they moved toward the barn. "There ain't no hurry about getting back to the ranch. We won't be going out till to-morrow or next day—there ain't no use getting the horses out to-night."