“We ought to get a trap down there.” Whit broke out,
“What the hell’s takin’ him so long? Lay out some cards, why don’t you? We ain’t going to get no euchre played this way.”
George brought the cards together tightly and studied the backs of them. The silence was in the room again. A shot sounded in the distance.
The men looked quickly at the old man. Every head turned toward him. For a moment he continued to stare at the ceiling.
Then he rolled slowly over and faced the wall and lay silent. George shuffled the cards noisily and dealt them.
Whit drew a scoring board to him and set the pegs to start. Whit said, “I guess you guys really come here to work.”
“How do ya mean?” George asked. Whit laughed. “Well, ya come on a Friday. You got two days to work till Sunday.”
“I don’t see how you figure,” said George. Whit laughed again.
“You do if you been around these big ranches much. Guy that wants to look over a ranch comes in Sat’day afternoon.
He gets Sat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Monday mornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand.
But you come to work Friday noon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.
George looked at him levelly. “We’re gonna stick aroun’ a while,” he said. “Me an’ Lennie’s gonna roll up a stake.”
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