“I was just thinkin’ how I’d hate to live here,” said the blue-eyed one seriously.
“Mm-m-m-m,” muttered Moran. He knew that wasn’t what the cowboy had said.
“It’s all right, after you get used to it,” said the bartending bookworm.
“That may be,” smiled Moran. “I expected to catch that afternoon train to Turquoise City, and find that there’s a wreck which will take twenty-four hours to clear. I’d give twenty-five dollars for a horse to ride to the Big 4 ranch.”
“Twenty-five dollars for twenty-five miles?” queried the bartender.
“It’s worth it to me,” declared Moran. “If one of you boys will let me have a horse—”
“You must be in a hurry,” observed the tall cowboy. He wiped his lips and prepared to roll a cigaret.
“I am. That’s my offer. I’d even ride double.”
“What kind of a place is this Turquoise City?”
“Wide open town. You boys lookin’ for work?”