“Me, huh?”
Roaring savagely rasped his spurred heel half-wayacross the desk top.
“I’m goin’ to try and hold the job, Judge.”
“Meaning that you are not in sympathy with my campaign?”
“Meanin’ that I’m in sympathy with my own skin. Your campaign! Judge, if you’ll take my friendly advice, you’ll foller Jim Randall. The road is plenty wide. Why, doggone you, Judge, nobody takes you seriously. You drink more liquor than any single drinker in this town.”
“Granted.”
“And you’re single.”
“Fortunately.”
“There you are, Judge. You want to clean up the town. Do you love the morals of your feller-men so much that you’d take a chance on gettin’ shot? You’ve got no wife to be offended by the honkatonk girls, and it’s a cinch you ain’t temperate. Go back and set on your bench, Judge. Cleanin’ up Turquoise ain’t no single-handed job.”
“They’ll not run me out.”