"
"Thar's a big un that's no good." Washburn pointed to an account he
had just copied.
"Who's it on?"
"Toot Wambush."
"How much?"
"Seventy-eight dollars an' fifty cents. It's been runnin' on fer two
yeer, an' thar hain't a single credit on it. He never was knowed to
pay a cent to nobody."
"Don't let anything out to him till the account is paid."
Washburn looked up with a dubious smile. "He'll raise a' awful row.
He never wants to go anywhar tell he's drinkin', an' then he's as ill
as a snake an' will fight at the drop of a hat. Nobody in Cartwright
dares to refuse 'im credit."
"I will, if he doesn't pay up."
"D' y' ever see 'im?"
"Yes, last night."
"I'd be cautious if I wus you; he's a dangerous man, an' takes offence
at the slightest thing."
"If he gets mad at me for refusing to let him drive my horses when he
owes a bill like that, and won't pay it, he can do so. I obey the law
myself, and I will not let drunkards run my business to suit
themselves."
"He's talking 'bout goin' out to his father's this morning, an' wants
to drive the same rig he had last night.
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