‘Gittin’ temperance, cowboy?’
‘Gittin’ wise. Man hadn’t ought to drink.’
‘Well, I won’t bear down so hard, Spike. I will say that a man hadn’t ort to do anythin’ else, when he’s drinkin’.’
CHAPTER V: REX GETS A RIDE
And that same morning Rex Morgan arrived at Cañonville. His right eye was still discolored and there were bruises on his face, but he had purchased a pair of trousers, and still had five dollars left.
Cañonville rather amazed him: the architecture, the dusty street, all horse-drawn vehicles, wide-hatted men. Rex knew nothing of the cattle country. The stage office sign caught his eye, and he remembered that he must ride by stage to Mesa City. He had made up his mind to find the man who had sent that seventy-five-dollar check.
‘Shore, yuh can ride to Mesa City,’ said the nondescript ‘Bunty’ Smith, who, with the able assistance of Joe Cave, piloted the stage between Cañonville and Mesa City. Bunty was a small, grizzled individual, whose face was unusually lopsided from an immense chew of tobacco.
He spat violently and considered Rex closely.
‘Horned-frawgs!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can jist look at yuh and bet a hundred-t’-one that you ain’t no native of this here country, young man. Goin’ t’ Mesa City, eh? Drummer?’
‘Drummer?’