“Now, look ‘e ‘ere, boys,” said Judge Linus Lynn, who had joined the group a few minutes before and caught the drift of their conversation. “Let me tell you what’s goin’ to happen. I am no tenderfoot—say, what’s all you fellers laughin’ at, anyway? Can’t a graduate of a jagcure make a few sober remarks without bein’ giggled at, I’d like to know. If you fellers had just a little wit—but you hain’t got it—to put with yer giggles, you’d have sarcasm. You bet!”
“Hain’t you tasted no corn-juice yit, Jedge, fur sure?” asked Dan Spencer, laughing.
“Not a dangnation swallow!” replied Judge Lynn, emphatically. “I took my friend Major Hampton’s advice, availed myself of the gold cure at his expense, an’ by the great horn spoon, I’ll never drink nary another drop; no, sirree. Bin shakin’ hands with the back end of drug stores, partin’ company with my good cash, an’ bein’ bit with the same old snake long enough. Oh, I know when I’ve got enough of even a bad thing. Bet yer life I do. Now as I was goin’ to say, I’m no tenderfoot. I’ve lived in Kansas twenty years. Uster gather up buffalo-bones from these prairies with a yoke of oxen, haul ‘em two hundred miles an’ sell ‘em’ at ten dollars a load. Yes, sir; think I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? Bet yer life I do.”
“I should nach’ally hev thought you’d bin a rich man afore this, Jedge,” said Bill Kinneman.
“Oh, you’d thought that, would you?” replied the judge. “I’ve heard you tell how to get rich, Kinneman, fur the las’ ten years. Fact is, if every man was to get rich who believes he knows how, we’d have no paupers.”
“Say, Jedge, we’re goin’ to hev hot winds, ain’t we?” asked Dan Spencer, grinning. “Thet’s what you’ve bin preachin’ fur the last three years, ain’t it, boys?”
“Gee whillikens!” exclaimed the judge, “did you feel that? That’s a hot wind, sure as you’re born.”
“Oh, no, Judge,” said Captain Osborn, “that could hardly be called a hot wind. Still, it is rather warm.”
“Gentlemen,” said Major Hampton, as he moved along with the crowd on the sidewalk to a point somewhat sheltered from the wind, “if Judge Lynn is correct, and we do not have rain soon, the growing crops will be seriously injured.”
Judge Linus Lynn walked on down to the corner of the building, where the wind was unobstructed, and, hastily returning, said, “The jig’s up, boys, an’ bets are all off. The hot winds of hell are sweepin’ the plains; bet yer life they are. The wolves will sure’nuff scratch the varnish off the front door of the new town hall and dig holes in the public square this winter, if this dangnation holycaust of hot wind keeps on Mowin’ very long. You bet I know a thing or two.”