"Me and Betty," he thought, "we'll have kids,
like Jack; tougher'n leather."
Old Garrigan saw him next and cackled from his truck garden in the
backyard, but Vic went on with a wave of his arm, and on past Gertie
Vincent's inviting shout (Gertie had been his particular girl before Betty
Neal came to town), and on with the determination of a soldier even past
the veranda of Captain Lorrimier's saloon, though Lorrimer himself bellowed
a greeting and "Chick" Stewart crooked a significant thumb over his
shoulder towards the open door. He only paused at the blacksmith shop and
looked in at Dug, who was struggling to make the print of a hot shoe on a
hind foot of Simpson's sorrel Glencoe.
"Hey, Dug!"
Pym raised a grimy, sweating forehead.
"You, boy; easy, damn you! Hello, Vic!" and he propped that restless hind
foot on his inner thigh and extended a hand.
"Go an workin', Dug, because I can't stop; I just want a rope to catch Grey
Molly."
"You red devil--take that rope over there, Vic. You won't have no work
catchin' Molly. Which she's plumb tame.
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