“A disgrace to the Maker whose image you were made in.”
Bull started, but seemed, on reflection, to consider this a point on which he need not commit himself.
“Still, I believe there’s a man in you yet. Something, at any rate, you couldn’t completely kill with whiskey, Bull––what?”
Bull lifted his weak and watery eyes. His whiskey-seamed face brightened into the ghost of a smile. “What I’m going to ask you to do,” continued de Spain, “is a man’s job. You can get into the Gap without trouble. You are the 305 only man I can put my hand on just now, that can. I want you to ride over this morning and hang out around Duke Morgan’s place till you can get a chance to see Miss Nan–––”
At the mention of her name, Bull shook his head a moment in affirmative approval. “She’s a queen!” he exclaimed with admiring but pungent expletives. “A queen!”
“I think so, Bull. But she is in troublesome circumstances. You know Nan and I–––”
Bull winked in many ways.
“And her Uncle Duke is making us trouble, Bull. I want you to find her, speak with her, and bring word to me as to what the situation is. That doesn’t mean you’re to get drunk over there––in fact, I don’t think anybody over there would give you a drink–––”
“Don’t believe they would.”
“And you are to ride back here with what you can find out just as quick, after you get into the clear, as a horse will bring you.”