“Baldy ain’t expected to live.”
“Who don’t expect him to live—Baldy?”
“Nope. He’s danged awful low and might pass out any time.”
“He ain’t got nothin’ on the rest of ’em,” states Windy, “and they can all pass out, for all of me.”
“Snag says somebody has got to pay for shootin’ Baldy.”
“Well, if he has to pay what Baldy’s worth, I reckon it won’t break nobody.”
“Somebody took seven white-faced cows of mine out of my Salt Spring Corral, and I can’t find ’em,” says Bowers, complainin’-like.
“Yuh sure got troubles, ain’t yuh, feller?” laughs Hashknife, squinting down his cue. “Yuh ought to have patience, don’t yuh know it?
“Ever hear of Job? No? He had boils. Fact. Millions of ’em, but he stuck it out and didn’t whimper.
“You’ve got a cinch alongside of poor old Job. You ain’t got nothin’ but loss of beef, other folks’ troubles and adenoids. Get cheerful, why don’t yuh?”