“Lloyd!” calls Porky after me, “think you could spare us a’ extra twenty fer grub?–you don’t want us to starve, Lloyd. And–and mebbe you could use the rest of these deeds.”
I come back.
“Twenty?” I says; “I’ll make it fifty fer luck.”
They was tears in that fake parson’s eyes. “Lloyd,” he says, “if I really was a preacher, I’d pick you fer a saved man.”
Later on, when I walked into Dutchy’s thirst-parlour, the boys was on hand, waitin’ patient. As they ketched sight of me, they hollered some.
“My friends,” I says, “this is where I stand treat. But it ain’t licker this tune, no, ma’am; I’m presentin’ hunderd-foot lots.” So out I drawed my little bunch of deeds and handed one to each feller. Bergin got the Observatory site and the City Park; Rawson, the University grounds; Hairoil, the Farmers’ and Merchants’ Bank block; Chub, the Court House; Sam Barnes, the spot fer the Grand Op’ra House, and Billy Trowbridge, the land fer the Deef, Dumb and Blind Asylum. Then I slid.
Ten minutes, and my pinto bronc was a-kitin’ fer the Bar Y ranch-house. Turnin’ in at the gate, I seen a light in the sittin’-room winda. I dropped the reins over Maud’s haid and hoofed it up onto the porch. And inside, there was Macie, a-settin’ in her rocker in front of the fire. On the other side was the President of the Briggs City Pott’ry Works.
“Boss,” I says, as I shook hands with him, “Boss, I’ve come fer you’ little gal.” Say! it took him quick, like a stitch in the side. “Fer my gal?” he kinda stammers.
“Why–why, Alec,––” she whispers to me.
“Sewell,” I goes on, “when I ast you fer her, a while back, you said, ‘Git a piece of land as big as the Andrews chunk.’ Wal,” (I handed out my deed) “would you mind lookin’ at this?”