‘Why, I thought you loved old Pete.’
‘That overbearin’ old badger? What are yuh drinkin’?’
CHAPTER IV: SORROWING COWBOYS
Peter Morgan and Dell Bowen rode back to the 6X6, but Spike Cahill and Bert Roddy stayed in town. Bert was a roly-poly sort of a cowboy, too fat to walk and almost too fat to ride. He had bunked with Ben Leach, and after a few drinks he became tearful.
In fact, the evening was still young when Bert became almost maudlin in his grief. He and Ben had quarreled for over a year, and at times they had almost come to blows; but just now Ben had been his best friend, a model young man, a paragon of all the virtues.
‘My, my, he wash shome feller,’ declared Bert owlishly. ‘Do I mish him? I tell yuh, Spike, it wash jist like tearin’ out my own heart to lose ol’ Bennie. There never wash and never will be another like ol’ Bennie.’
‘Lishen,’ said Spike thickly. ‘You shut up. Nex’ thing you know I’ll be cryin’ with yuh. I don’ wanna cry. Have ’nother drink. Bertie. Na-a-a-a-aw! Not another cry! You damn fool, don’tcha unnerstand English?’
‘I—I feel my losh,’ wailed Bert. ‘Don’tcha know I feel my losh?’
‘He feels his losh,’ explained Spike to the bartender.
‘He feels his liquor, yuh mean,’ said the calloused dispenser of drinks.