"You're saying so is plain enough. And so is the whyfor."
"The whyfor?"
"Shore, the whyfor. Say, do you take me for a damfool? Here you use up the best part of two days on a trip I could make in ten hours going slow and eating regular. Who is she, cowboy, who is she?"
"What you talking about?"
"What am I talking about, huh? I'd ask that, I would. Yeah, I would so. Is she pretty?"
"Poor feller's got a hangover," Racey murmured in pity. "I kind o' thought it must be something like that when he began to talk so funny. Now I'm shore of it. You tie a wet towel round yore head, Swing, and take a good pull of cold water. You'll feel better in the morning."
"So'll I feel better in the morning if you jiggers will close yore traps and lemme sleep," growled a peevish voice in the next room—on the Main Street side.
"As I live," said Racey in a tone of vast surprise, "there's somebody in the next room."
"Sounds like the owner of the Starlight," hazarded Swing Tunstall.
"It is the owner of the Starlight," corroborated the voice, "and I wanna sleep, and I wanna sleep now."