"What business?" says he.
"Poker and cows," says Old Man Wright.
The fellow with whiskers turned away.
"I'm very busy," says he.
"So am I," says Old Man Wright. "But what about the account?"
"You'd better see Mr. Watts, three windows down," says the man with the whiskers. So we went on a little farther down.
"How much of a deposit did you want to make, my good friend?" ast this new man, who had little whiskers in front of his ears. I didn't like him none at all.
Old Man Wright he puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a lot of fine cut, and some keys and a knife and some paper money, and says he:
"I don't know—it might run as high as three hundred dollars."
The man with the little whiskers he pushes back his roll.