A-course, we all stampeded over and took a squint. "Wal, when did _that_ blow in?" says Bill Rawson. And, "Say! ketch me whilst I faint!" goes on one of the Lazy X boys, making believe as if he was weak in the laigs. The rest of just haw-hawed.
A young feller we'd never seen afore was comin' cater-corners from the station. He was a slim-Jim, sorta salla complected, jaw clean scraped, and he had on a pair of them tony pinchbug spectacles. He was rigged out fit t' kill--grey store clothes, dicer same colour as the suit, sky-blue shirt, socks tatooed green, and gloves. He passed clost, not lookin' our _di_rection, and made fer the Arnaz rest'rant.
Just as he got right in front of it, he come short and begun readin' the sign that's over the door--
Meals 25c Start in and It's a Habit You cain't Quit.
Then we seen him grin like he was _turrible_ tickled, and take out a piece of paper t' set somethin' down. Next, in he slides.
"Not a sewin'-machine agent, 'r he'd 'a' wore a duster," says Hairoil.
"And a patent medicine man would 'a' had on a stove-pipe," adds Bergin.
"Maype he iss a preacher," puts in Dutchy, lookin' scairt as the dickens.
"Nixey," I says. "But if he was a drummer, he'd 'a' steered straight fer a thirst-parlour."
Missed it a mile--the hull of us. Minute, and in run Sam Barnes, face redder'n a danger-signal.
"Boys," he says, all up in the air, "did y' see It? Wal, what d' you think? It's from Boston, and It writes. I was at the Arnaz feed shop, gassin' Carlota, when It shassayed in. Said It was down here fer the first time in a-a-all Its life, and figgers t' work this town fer book mawterial. Gents, It's a liter'toor sharp!"
"Of all the _gall!_" growls Chub Flannagan, gittin' hot. "Goin' t' take a shy outen us!" And I seen that some of the other boys felt like _he_ did.
Buckshot Milliken spit in his hands. "I'll go over," he says, "and just natu'lly settle that dude's hash. I'd _admire_ t' do it."
I haided him off quick. Then I faced the bunch. "Gents," I begun, "ain't you just a little bit hasty? Now, don't git in a sweat. _Con_-sider this subject a little 'fore you act. Sam, I thought you _liked_ t' read liter'toor books."
Sam hauled out "Stealthy Steve"--a fav'-rite of hisn. "Shore I do," he answers. "But, as I tole this Boston feller, no liter'toor's been happenin' in Briggs lately--no killin's, 'r train hole-ups."