"'What does he need a crutch for?' he says, givin' me a sour look.
"I takes the hoss by the head, backs him real sudden, 'n' he lifts the off-rear high 'n' stiff.
"'He's a stringer,' I says.
"Brown gives the guy the laugh.
"'You might get thirty dollars from a Jew pedler for him,' he says. 'He'll make a high-class hunter—for paper, rags and old iron.'
"'How did you know that horse was string-halted so quick?' says Brown to me when the guy has gone.
"'I told you I can smell a dink,' I says. But I don't tell him what I sees at the door.
"'I think we could use you and your nose around here,' he says. 'Are you stuck on Chicago?'
"'Me fur this joint,' I says, lookin' 'round. 'Do I have to get my hair waved more 'n' twict a week?'
"'We'll waive that in your case,' he says, laughin' at his bum joke.