"Heads I stay, tails you go."
"Righto, here she goes," and he spun the coin high in the air. "Tails it is," he announced disgustedly an instant later. "Didn't I tell yer as how some folks has all the luck. I hain't a whinin' now, I'm only makin' a statement o' fact."
"It's shore too bad," Slats consoled him. "But you'll enjoy the trip if yer only make up yer mind to it." And he started off toward the corral while the mournful loser, with a deep sigh of disgust, turned toward the huge barn.
"Much obliged jest the same fer givin' me a chance," he called back over his shoulder.
"Don't mention it, ol' timer," the other shouted back.
It was some two hours later when Slim Jones driving along the rough and dusty road on the way to the town, suddenly drew rein and, as the bronchos came to a willing stop, he muttered "heads I stay, tails you go." Several times he repeated the phrase, each time a little louder until the last time he was almost shouting.
"Why, if it hadda come heads I'd a had ter go jest the same," he declared. "The onnery slab-sided, red-haired skunk. If he tells the boys I'll never hear the last of it. I'll stretch his onery hide on ter the barn door fer that, I will, sure's my name's Slim Jones." Then, after a moment's thought, he continued his soliloquy. "If I warn't more'n half-way there I'd turn back and make him go." For several moments he sat in deep thought and finally a slight grin began to spread over his broad features and, picking up the rein, he muttered:
"Well, if he don't tell no one mebby I'll only shoot him full o' holes."
The ultimate destiny of Slats Magee having been settled to his satisfaction, Slim tightened the reins and clucked to the drowsing bronchos whereupon they started off with a sudden jump which all but jerked him over backward.
"Hey, thar," he shouted, "don't ye know enough ter start up without yanking the bottom out o' all creation when I step on the gas?"