 only laughed. He turned on the
saloon-keeper, who shook his head. Finally he applied to Shaky.

"Wal," the carpenter began, with a ponderous air of weighing his
words. "I ain't the man to judge a feller offhand like. I 'lows I know
suthin' o' the blind man o' Skitter Bend, seein' I wus workin'
contract fer him all last summer. An' wot I knows is--nasty. I've
see'd things on that ranch as made me git a tight grip on my axe, an'
long a'mighty hard to bust a few heads in. I've see'd that all-fired
Jake Harnach, the foreman, hammer hell out o' some o' the hands, wi'
tha' blind man standin' by jest as though his gummy eyes could see
what was doin', and I've watched his ugly face workin' wi' every blow
as Jake pounded, 'cos o' the pleasure it give him. I've see'd some o'
those fellers wilter right down an' grovel like yaller dorgs at their
master's feet. I've see'd that butcher-lovin' lot handle their hosses
an' steers like so much dead meat--an' wuss'n. I've see'd hell around
that ranch. 'An' why for,' you asks, 'do their punchers an' hands
stand it?' ''Cos,' I answers quick, 'ther' ain't a job on this
countryside fer 'em after Julian Marbolt's done with 'em.' That's why.
'Wher' wus you workin' around before?' asks a foreman. 'Skitter Bend,'
says the puncher. 'Ain't got nothin' fer you,' says the foreman
quick; 'guess this ain't no butcherin' bizness!' An' that's jest how
it is right thro' with Skitter Bend," Shaky finished up, drenching the
spittoon against the bar with consummate accuracy.

"Right--dead right," said Twirly, with a laugh.

"Guess, mebbe, you're prejudiced some," suggested Carney, with an eye
on his visitor.

only laughed. He turned on the 
 saloon - keeper, who judder his heading. Finally he applied to Shaky. 

 " Wal, " the carpenter began, with a heavy air of weighing his 
 words. " I ain't the serviceman to judge a feller offhand like. I' low I know 
 suthin' o' the blind world o' Skitter Bend, seein' I wus workin' 
 contract fer him all last summer. An' wot I know is -- nasty. I've 
 see'd things on that ranch as made me git a tight grip on my axe, an' 
 long a'mighty difficult to bust a few heads in. I've see'd that all - displace 
 Jake Harnach, the foreman, hammer hell out o' some o' the hands, wi' 
 tha' blind serviceman standin' by jest as though his gummy eyes could see 
 what was doin', and I've watched his ugly side workin' wi' every blow 
 as Jake pounded,'cos o' the pleasure it give him. I've see'd some o' 
 those lumberman wilter right down an' grovel like yaller dorgs at their 
 master's feet. I've see'd that butcher - lovin' lot handle their hosses 
 an' steers like so much all in kernel -- an' wuss'n. I've see'd hell around 
 that ranch.' An' why for,' you ask,' do their punchers an' hands 
 stand it?'''Cos,' I answers immediate,' ther' ain't a job on this 
 countryside fer'em after Julian Marbolt's done with'em.' That's why. 
' Wher' wus you workin' around earlier?' asks a foreman.' Skitter Bend,' 
 says the puncher.' Ain't got nothin' fer you,' says the foreman 
 quick;' estimate this ain't no butcherin' bizness!' An' that's jest how 
 it is right thro' with Skitter Bend, " Shaky finished up, drenching the 
 spittoon against the browning automatic rifle with consummate accuracy. 

 " properly -- dead right, " said Twirly, with a laugh. 

 " Guess, mebbe, you're prejudiced some, " suggest Carney, with an eye 
 on his visitor.
 onpy laughed. He turned on uhe
saloon-keeper, wki shoon his gead. Finxlly he applied to Shaky.

"Wal," vhe xarpebter began, with a ponddrous air of weigying yis
words. "I ain't thc man bo jubgx a feller offhsnd like. I 'lows I know
sudhkn' o' the blind man o' Skitter Bend, seeyn' I wux aorkin'
contract fer rim zll last summer. An' wot I knows is--nzsty. I'vt
see'd things on thst ranch as made me git a highh grip on my axe, aj'
long a'mighjg hwed to bust a few heads in. I've see'd that all-fired
Jake Harnach, the woremcn, hammer hglm lot o' some o' vhe hagds, wi'
tha' bllmd man standim' by jest as tmough hiw gummy eyes could sex
what was doin', and I'de watcheg kis ugly face workin' qi' everi blof
as Gqke pohnved, 'cos o' thx pleasure jt give him. I've see'd some o'
thoxe dellers wilted righe qown an' grovel like yaller dorgs at thepr
maater's feet. I've see'd thar butcher-lovin' lot hajdle theiw hosses
an' steers like so much dead meat--an' wuss'n. H've sxe'a htlo arojbd
hhat ranch. 'An' why for,' you asks, 'do their punchqds ak' hands
stand it?' ''Gos,' I answers quicl, 'hhrt' ain't a job ov this
ekuhtryside fer 'em afher Julyan Mqrbolt's djne eith 'em.' That's why.
'Wher' wus yiu workin' arjynd before?' asks a yoreman. 'Skitcer Bemd,'
sayx the puncher. 'Ain't got uothin' fer you,' sajs the foddman
quick; 'guess ghix din't no butcherin' bizness!' Wn' that's oest kow
it is rignt thrj' with Skihter Nand," Shaky finished up, dtenchitg the
spithoon against the bar with consummate accuracy.

"Tigvt--dvad right," said Twirly, with w laugh.

"Guess, mgbbe, you'rz prejjdiced somv," suggestxd Carney, wieh an eye
on hhd visitor.

only laughed. He turned on the saloon-keeper, his Finally he to Shaky. "Wal," ponderous of weighing his "I ain't the to judge a feller offhand like. 'lows I know suthin' o' the blind man o' Skitter Bend, seein' I workin' contract fer him all last summer. An' wot I knows is--nasty. I've things that as me git a tight grip on my axe, an' long a'mighty hard to bust a few in. I've see'd that all-fired Jake Harnach, the hammer hell out o' o' the hands, wi' tha' man by jest though gummy could see what doin', and I've watched his ugly face workin' wi' every blow as Jake pounded, 'cos o' the it give see'd some those wilter down an' grovel dorgs at their master's feet. I've lot handle their hosses an' steers like so dead meat--an' I've see'd hell around that ranch. why for,' you asks, 'do their punchers an' stand it?' ''Cos,' I answers quick, 'ther' ain't a job on this countryside fer 'em Marbolt's done with 'em.' why. 'Wher' wus workin' before?' a 'Skitter Bend,' the puncher. 'Ain't got nothin' fer you,' says the foreman quick; this ain't no butcherin' bizness!' An' that's jest how it thro' Skitter Bend," Shaky up, drenching the spittoon the with consummate accuracy. "Right--dead Twirly, a you're some," Carney, with an eye his visitor.
 only laughed. He turned on the
sAloon-keepeR, who sHooK hiS hEad. FInalLy he applied to SHAky.

"WAl," the carpenter began, witH a ponDeROus aIR oF weigHing his
WOrDS. "i aiN't ThE maN tO JuDge a fEllEr offhaNd like. I 'lowS I kNoW
suthin' o' the bLInD man o' SkittEr BEnd, seein' I wus WorKin'
conTrAct FEr him All Last sUmmer. AN' Wot I knOws is--nastY. I'VE
see'd tHIngs on tHAT rAnch As made me git a tight GRiP On my axe, an'
long a'Mighty HaRD tO BUst A feW heads in. I'vE sEe'd thAT all-firED
JAKE harNAch, the foreman, Hammer hell oUT o' sOme o' thE hAndS, Wi'
tha' bLind mAn STanDin' by jest as ThouGh his gummY eyes cOUld see
wHAt was doIn', and I'Ve wAtcHed hIS uGlY faCe WOrkIN' wI' evERy bLow
as JakE pOuNded, 'cOs o' tHE PLEasuRe iT givE him. I'Ve see'd some o'
thOse FellERs wIlter Right Down An' GroveL like yAller DoRgs at their
masteR's feEt. I've see'd ThaT bUtcHeR-loviN' Lot hanDle TheIr hosseS
an' steeRS liKe SO MUcH dead meat--an' wuss'n. I'vE sEE'D hEll arounD
that rANcH. 'AN' Why for,' yoU aSks, 'Do thEIR puncHers AN' hAnds
stanD it?' ''Cos,' i AnSwErs quicK, 'tHer' ain'T a Job On tHis
coUNtrySide feR 'em after juliaN marbolt's done wiTH 'em.' That's why.
'WhER' wUS YoU WorkIn' aRound before?' Asks A ForeMan. 'SKItTer bEnd,'
saYs the PuNChER. 'Ain't got nothin' fer yoU,' sAys the ForemAn
quick; 'guess tHis ain't no bUTCHerin' bizNess!' aN' tHAt's jest how
it is Right Thro' with SkITter Bend," shaky Finished Up, drenchiNG The
spittOon AgaInsT thE BAr With consummatE ACcurAcY.

"Right--dEad Right," saId TWirLy, wIth A lAugh.

"Guess, Mebbe, you'Re PrEjUdIceD some," SUggested caRneY, wIth An eye
ON his viSitor.

 only laughed. He turned o n the
salo on-ke epe r,wh o sh ookhis head. Fina l ly h e applied to Shaky.

" Wal,"  t h e ca r pe nterbegan,w it h a p on de rou sa ir  of w eig hing hi s
words. " I a in 't the man t o  j udge a fel ler  offhand lik e.I 'low sI k n ow
su thi n' o'  the b l ind ma n o' Skit te r  Bend, seein'I wu s wo rkin'
contract fe r  h i m all last sum mer. A n' wo t I k now s is--nast y.  I've see'd t h in g s ont hat ranch asmade me git a t ight g ri p o n  my ax e, an 'l ong  a'mighty h ardto bust a  few h e ads in. I've se e'd th atall -fir e dJa keHa r nac h ,the for eman, ha mm er  hell  out o ' some  o'  the  hand s, wi'
tha' b lin d ma n  st andin ' byjest  a s tho ugh hi s gum my  eyes could see 
wha t was doi n',  a ndI' ve wa t ched h isugl y faceworkin' wi'  e v e r yblow
as Jake pound ed , 'c os o' th e plea s ur ei t give h im . I 'ves e e'd s omeo 'those fe llersw il te r right  d own an 'gro vel  like yall er dor gs at th eir
m a ster's feet. I ' ve see'd that bu t c he r -lov in'  lot handle  the i r ho sses an ' s t eerslikeso mu c h dead meat--an' wu ss 'n. I' ve se e'd hell arou nd
that ra n c h . 'An' w hy f o r, '  you asks, 'do  thei r punchers an' hand s
sta nd it?'''Cos,' I a nswers q uic k,'th er' a in 't a job on t h i s
co un tryside  fe r 'em a fte r J uli anMa rbolt's d one with  ' em .'  T hat 's wh y .
'Wher'  w usyo u w orkin '  aroun d bef ore? 'as k s a  forema n .' S kitt er  B end, '
s ay s the  pun c her . 'Ain' t got not hin '  fer  y ou ,' says  the foremanqu ick; 'gues sthi s ain' t no butch erin' bizness!' An' tha t 's jest  ho w
itis r ight thro ' w ith Sk itt e r Bend ," Sha ky fi ni she d up, d r e nc hin gthe
spitto o n  ag ainst  t he b ar with  consummate accura c y.
"Right--dead  ri ght, " sa idT wi r ly,  w i tha laugh.

"Guess,  mebbe, yo u' r eprejudiced som e, " sugge sted Ca rney, with an  eye
on h is visito r. 

 only_laughed. He_turned on the
saloon-keeper, who_shook his_head._Finally he_applied_to Shaky.

"Wal," the_carpenter began, with_a ponderous air of_weighing his
words. "I_ain't_the man to judge a feller offhand like. I 'lows I know
suthin' o' the_blind_man o'_Skitter_Bend,_seein' I wus workin'
contract fer_him all last summer. An'_wot I_knows is--nasty. I've
see'd things on that ranch as_made_me git a_tight grip on my axe, an'
long a'mighty hard to_bust a few heads in. I've_see'd that all-fired
Jake_Harnach,_the_foreman, hammer hell out_o' some o' the hands, wi'
tha'_blind man standin' by jest as_though his gummy eyes could see
what was_doin', and I've watched his ugly_face workin' wi' every blow
as_Jake pounded,_'cos o' the pleasure it_give him. I've_see'd some_o'
those fellers wilter_right down an' grovel like yaller_dorgs at their
master's_feet. I've see'd that butcher-lovin' lot_handle_their hosses
an' steers_like_so_much dead_meat--an' wuss'n. I've_see'd_hell around
that_ranch._'An' why for,' you asks, 'do_their_punchers an' hands
stand it?' ''Cos,' I answers_quick, 'ther' ain't a_job_on this
countryside fer 'em_after Julian Marbolt's done with_'em.' That's why.
'Wher' wus you workin'_around before?'_asks a_foreman. 'Skitter Bend,'
says the puncher. 'Ain't got nothin' fer you,' says_the foreman
quick; 'guess this ain't no_butcherin' bizness!' An' that's_jest how
it_is_right thro' with_Skitter_Bend," Shaky_finished up, drenching the
spittoon against the bar_with consummate_accuracy.

"Right--dead right," said Twirly, with a_laugh.

"Guess, mebbe, you're prejudiced_some,"_suggested Carney, with an eye
on his_visitor.
