"
"Say, d' yuh think you can run me? Get out of this, or I'll
throw you out. Got house way I want it."
Bill Wrenn, the cattleman, rushed at him, smacked him with the
broom, drove him back into the tub, and waited. He laughed.
It was all a good joke; his friend Charley and he were playing
a little game. Charley also laughed and splashed some more.
Then he wept and said that the water was cold, and that he was now
deserted by his only friend.
"Oh, shut up," remarked Bill Wrenn, and swept the bathroom floor.
Charley stopped swashing about to sneer:
"Li'l ministering angel, ain't you? You think you're awful
good, don't you? Come up here and bother me. When I ain't well.
Salvation Army. You----. Aw, lemme _'lone_, will you?" Bill
Wrenn kept on sweeping. "Get out, you----."
There was enough energy in Charley's voice to indicate that he
was getting sober. Bill Wrenn soused him under once more, so
thoroughly that his own cuffs were reduced to a state of
flabbiness. He dragged Charley out, helped him dry himself,
and drove him to bed.
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