“Or go over and serenade Mrs. Wesson. She speaks highly of yore ability. I’d be ashamed to let Sam Leach beat me out of a girl.”
“The you would? Well, he’s beatin’ yuh out of a job.”
“I reckon that’ll hold me for a while,” grinned Brick.
Harp had got to his feet and was starting for the door, when Silent Slade came stomping inside. He advanced to Brick’s desk and slapped a piece of fairly fresh cow-hide down on its polished top. It landed with a wet thud and the concussion knocked several papers to the floor.
“Get that dirty thing off my desk!” snapped Brick. “What do yuh think this is—a tannery?”
“Look at that!” snorted Silent, pointing at the offending object. “Look at that piece of hide, dog-gone yuh!”
“All right, I’m lookin’!” retorted Brick.
“Do yuh see it? Yuh do? See the Nine-Bar-Nine brand on that section of cow skin? See the edge has been burned? Yuh do? Huh!”
“Yeah, I see all them things,” grinned Brick. “Why didn’t yuh herd the cow in here? The sample looks all right.”
“Funny, ain’tcha?” Silent poked his finger at the piece of hide carefully as though expecting it to snap at him.