Blue jeans is about my sort of uniform,"
observed John.
"I don't believe we'd be supposed to wear it on range," suggested
Thorne. "Only in town and official business." He turned to the girl
again: "May have to go over Baldy to-morrow," said he, "so we'll run off
those letters."
She arose and saluted, military fashion. The two disappeared in the tiny
box-office, whence presently came the sound of Thorne's voice in
dictation.
California John knocked the ashes from his pipe.
"Get your apron on, sonny," said he.
He tested the water on the stove and slammed out a commodious dish-pan.
"Glasses first; then silver; and if you break anything, I'll bash in
your fool head. There's going to be some style to this dishwashing. I
used to slide 'em all in together and let her go. But that ain't the way
here. She knows four aces and the jolly joker better than that. Glasses
first."
They washed and wiped the dishes, and laid them carefully away.
"She's a little wonder," said California John, nodding at the office,
"and there ain't none of the boys but helps all they can."
Thorne called the old man by name, and he disappeared into the office.
Pages:
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485