“Whatcha got?” asks Dirty.
Wick clears his throat kinda hoarse-like.
“I’ve got civic pride, by —!”
“You’ve showed it, Wick,” says I.
“Uh-huh. If I had more sense and less pride I’d be better off. Hassayampa Harris hands me a bill for thirty-six dollars’ worth of feed—and I got so — full of pride that I kicked him out and took charge.
“My —, that elephant is jist like a hay-baler. Yuh can’t fill it up, I tell yuh. And he was feedin’ Cleo-patree meat! Can yuh beat that? Cleo-patree is the tiger. That son of a gun has cost me one hundred dollars per stripe.”
“Wick,” says I, “wouldst be rid of ’em?”
Wick looks at me for quite a while, spits painful-like and nods slowly.
“Wouldst.”
“I can get yuh a thousand dollars for the layout.”