“Seeing that nobody breaks into jail without showing a warrant,” he grins. Pretty soon he heaves a long sigh, and turns in his saddle—“Ike, it ain’t going to be long before you’ll be cooking grub for yourself alone.”
“It sure ain’t,” I agrees. “I begins tonight. Your feller-feelings are paralyzed, Magpie Simpkins, and no more do I cook for an ungrateful hombre like you. Dang your slim soul! You ain’t noways good enough for that lady.”
“Ain’t it true,” he agrees. “But I’m getting better all the time, Ike. Didn’t yuh notice how the tears comes to her eyes, and how her breast heaved when I spoke about losing sleep? And then you—dang yuh! You has to cut in with that sky-pilot talk when I’m getting right down to business. If I had five minutes alone with her I’d have her hand.”
“I’ll bet yuh would,” I agrees. “A feller what can lie as fast as you can hadn’t ought to take that long.”
“You’re one of the kind what makes love by main strength and awkwardness, Ike. Your idea of a courtship is to take a damsel by the hair, drag her home, slam her into a corner, and then hammer her with a boot if she can’t cook. You say I’d lie to her. You got to, Ike. No woman was ever told the truth when she was proposed to. She don’t want the truth.”
“I never beat up no woman, Magpie,” I advises him. “Also I ain’t no second George Washington.”
That night we cooks separate meals, and I got all the best of it, ’cause Magpie can’t cook. The next morning he beats me to it. We’ve only got two eggs left, and of course he has to let mine roll off on the floor. Now we’re back where this tale began, with him orating about breaking bread with me.
“Old trailer,” says I, “if you baked the bread, we couldn’t break it.”
He don’t reply—just snorts, so we eats on opposite sides of the shack.
Some of Piperock’s prominent citizens come down to see Magpie, and their conversation leads us to believe that we’re incompetent. They hints around that they might ’a’ made a mistake when they elects Magpie. Magpie sighs deep-like, and tells them to not take snap judgment, ’cause he’s going out to get that feller right soon. Art Miller gets Magpie off to one side and speaks to him in whispers. Magpie shakes his head, emphatic-like, and Art acts disgusted. After they’re gone I asks Magpie what Art wanted.