"Maybe. If she don't, I guess I'll have to figger some way to beat it."
"What are Jedlick's attractions? Surely not good looks."
"Money, Duke; that's the answer to him—money. He's got a salt barrel full of it; the old man favors him for that money."
"That's harder to beat than a music box in a watch."
"You can't beat it, Duke. What's good looks by the side of money? Or brains? Well, they don't amount to cheese!"
"Are you goin' to sidestep in favor of Jedlick? A man with all your experience and good clothes!"
"Me? I'm a-goin' to lay that feller out on a board!"
They hitched at the hotel rack, that looking more respectable, as Taterleg said, than to leave their horses in front of the saloon. Alta was heard singing in the interior; there were two railroad men belonging to a traveling paint gang on the porch smoking their evening pipes.
Lambert felt that it was his duty to buy cigars in consideration of the use of the hitching-rack. Wood appeared in the office door as they came up the steps, and put his head beyond the jamb, looking this way and that, like a man considering a sortie with enemies lying in wait.
Taterleg went into the parlor to offer the incense of his cigar in the presence of Alta, who was cooing a sentimental ballad to her guitar. It seemed to be of parting, and the hope of reunion, involving one named Irene. There was a run in the chorus accompaniment which Alta had down very neatly.