Crawford refused to accept this excuse. "No, sir. You're comin' with me, by gum! I got soap and water and a razor up at the house, if that's what's troublin' you. We've had a big day and I'm goin' to celebrate by talkin' it all over again. Dad gum my hide, think of it, you solemn-faced old owl! This time last night I was 'most a pauper and you sure were. Both of us were under the charge of havin' killed a man each. To-night we're rich as that fellow Crocus; anyhow I am, an' you're haided that way. And both of us have cleared our names to boot. Ain't you got any red blood in that big body of yore's?"
"I'll drop in to the Delmonico and get a bite, then ride out to the
Jackpot."
"You will not!" protested the cattleman. "Looky here, Dave. It's a showdown. Have you got anything against me?"
Dave met him eye to eye. "Not a thing, Mr. Crawford. No man ever had a better friend."
"Anything against Joyce?"
"No, sir."
"Don't hate my boy Keith, do you?"
"How could I?"
"Then what in hell ails you? You're not parlor-shy, are you? Say the word, and we'll eat in the kitchen," grinned Crawford.
"I'm not a society man," said Sanders lamely.