"And that ain't all, Dick," he went on aggrievedly. "He went and cut
down the order I give him for grub. That's something Ches never
done--not with me, anyway. Asked me--asked me, what I wanted with so
much choc'late. And I wanted boiled cider for m' mince-meat, and never
got it. And brandy, too--only I didn't put that down on the list; I
knowed better than to write it out. But I give Jim money--out uh my own
pocket!--to git some with, and he never done it. Said Ford told him
p'tic'ler not to bring out nothin' any nearer drinkable than lemon
extract! I've got a darned good mind," he added somberly, "to fire the
hull works into the gully. He don't belong on no cow ranch. Where he'd
oughta be is runnin' the W.C.T.U. So darned afraid of a pint uh
brandy--"
"If I was dead sure your brains wouldn't get to leaking out your mouth,"
Dick began guardedly, "I might put you wise to something." He took a
drink of water, opened the door that he might throw out what remained in
the dipper, and made sure that no one was near the bunk-house before he
closed the door again. Mose watched him interestedly.
"You know me, Dick--I never do tell all I know," he hinted heavily.
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