Then I calls Dirty outside, and I says to him, like this:
“Dirty, me and you have got to stay sober. A drunk ain’t goin’ to have no chance a-tall in there if anything goes wrong. If we hangs around with them celebratin’ shorthorns we won’t be in no shape to get up and foller that star. We’ll be just like Maud S, which can’t or won’t get up.”
“That’s right, Ike. We’ll get a couple of quarts for ourselves and keep away from them hard drinkers. Don’t yuh reckon Maud S will get up at the right time?”
“She’s plumb rooted, Dirty.”
“Uh-huh. I know how to do it, Ike. Come on.”
Dirty went over to Wick’s store, and later on I meets him; and we goes up to my cabin.
We’ve got them two quarts of hooch, so we has quite a little time of our own, waiting until the afternoon gets to the sere and yaller leaf. I wakes up and finds Dirty with flour all over his clothes, but he won’t tell what he’s trying to do.
Magpie hunts us up and acts peevish toward us.
“Gosh a’mighty,” he complains. “Ain’t yuh got no sense? We’re tryin’ to re-hearse and you fellers hide out down here. Come on.”
We just gets to the door, when we meets Muley Bowles.