“Oh yeah. I don’t know what in ⸺ that is, Ike; but it sounds like Piperock might adopt it. Magpie’s the ring-leader, ain’t he? Sure.”
Dirty knows Piperock as well as I do. For a week I helped him on a copper prospect, and not a word of Piperock’s doings percolated into our happy home.
Then Dirty got dry. When Dirty Shirt gets dry there ain’t nothing short of sudden death will stop him this side of Buck Masterson’s place.
Therefore we packs our burros and pilgrims to the city of Baal, as Testament calls it every Sunday. Testament has just got two sermons. One is on temperance and the other is on the evils of strong drink.
We has to pass Mighty Jones’ place on our way in, and we finds Mighty settin’ on his wood-pile, playing with a coyote pup. He squints at us.
“Goin’ to Piperock?”
I admits our ultimate destination.
“Better go home. Testament Tilton says that Piperock is goin’ to run a dead heat with Sodom and Gomorrah, whatever pair of horses them two is.”
“What’s the matter with Piperock?” asks Dirty.
Mighty hitches up his pants and spits very expressive-like.