“You don’t mean to say that you’re from Arizona, and don’t irrigate!” gasped Random.
“We irrigate with water, and that’s always been good enough for your Uncle Joseph. Besides, I’m training with Motor Matt, and our work calls for a clear brain and a steady hand. Seltzer lemonade for mine.”
“You’ll have a cigar?”
“That’s another thing I miss in the high jump.”
“Give me the same as usual, Jack,” said Random, to the waiter. “You’re a lad of high principles, I see,” remarked the broker, when the waiter had retired.
“It’s a matter of business, rather than of principle. Whenever an hombre gets his trouble appetite worked up, the first thing he does is to take on a cargo of red-eye. That points him straight for fireworks and fatalities.”
“I don’t know but you’re right,” said Random reflectively.
The waiter returned, and Random mixed himself something while McGlory fished around in his lemonade for the “pickled” cherry. Over their glasses they talked at some length, the broker seeking information about the section of Arizona where the colonel had begun operations on the “Pauper’s Dream.”
“What time is it, Mr. Random?” asked McGlory, in the midst of their talk.
“Just ten,” replied Random, with a look at his watch.