"Maybeso. What you want?"
"I asked you if you was runnin' this office."
"Hell, yes! What're your eyes for?"
The clerk's visitor sniggered.
"I've got a train of cattle on the edge of town," explained Dave. "The stockyards engine didn't show up."
"Consigned to us?"
"To the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company."
"Name of shipper?"
"West Cattle Company and Henry B. West."
"All right. I'll take care of 'em." The clerk turned back to his friend. His manner dismissed the cowpuncher. "And she says to me, 'I'd love to go with you, Mr. Edmonds; you dance like an angel.' Then I says—"