Checkers had intended to move off and leave him sitting there alone; but he stopped long enough to light a cigarette (a thing which the old man abominated) and listen to this last remark.
MR. BARLOW
"Now it's roostin' time," continued Mr. Barlow with emphasis, "and onless ye come down off'n th' high horse ye 're ridin', ye 're goin' ter hear suthin' drap that 'll kinder put a crimp in that pride o' yourn."
This was a new tone for him to take, and Checkers turned and looked at him surprisedly.
"The fact is," he went on, "you ain't got no head for bizness, and it 's providential things hez come round so 's I kin run this place and make what they is to be made out'n it." He looked up as though he expected to be interrogated.
"What's your lay?" asked Checkers.
"Wal, the situation, ez near ez I kin figger it out, accordin' to law, is this: I owns this ranch."
Checkers stood silent for a moment, and then laughed. "You owns it?" he mimicked; "nit."