He looks us over, foolish like, squints hard at the judge, under the rail, and then shakes his head and starts for the door.
“What’s the matter, Dud-Dud-Doughgod?” stutters Buck.
“De-de-de-delirium tut-tut-tut-tremens,” stutters Doughgod, right back at him.
He flops his arms, and sighs deep.
“No use,” he states. “Must be uh lot uh lye in hooch that’ll make uh feller see things like that. It was standing down the road with its head under uh hard hat—uh yaller one!” He shrieked the last sentence, and lopes out to his bronc, and away he goes.
“Head under uh hat!” whoops Scenery.
“My ——! Hid out like uh ostrich!” And then he lopes out of the door.
“I got uh claim to settle, too,” announces the judge.
He slides out from under that rail, hitches up his belt and gallops after Scenery.
Magpie ambles in the door, snorts the dust out of his nose, and Chuck Warner is right behind him. Chuck looks like he’d been through a revolution. He weaves over to the pool-table, gets down on his knees and searches the floor. He shakes his head, solemn-like, and searches his pockets once more.