“One man?” asks Magpie. “Sam, who is that there man?”
“Why, Chuck Warner, of course.”
“Chuck Warner, of course,” nods Magpie, like a man talking in his sleep.
“Chuck Warner,” wheezes Muley. “Of course.”
“Of course,” says Telescope. “Chuck Warner.”
Then we sets around and looks at each other.
“Chuck Warner?” says Hen, like he was trying to remember somebody by that name.
“Works for the Cross J outfit,” says I. “Kind of handsome hombre. You must remember him, men.”
“Oh-o-o-oh, yeah,” nods Telescope, fussing with his gun. “Chuck Warner.”
Magpie gets up, yawns and walks slow-like out of the door. Art Miller kinda saunters out, and then Telescope seems to desire fresh air. Muley kinda groans and starts to get up, but them three orders of ham and aigs has sort of depressed him, and he sinks back into his chair.