I'd like to have given him a run; but, of course, I couldn't take it up without makin' myself out a friend of this Dutchy party, and I couldn't stand for that.

But I did tackle Dutchy about it one night when they wasn't nobody else there.
"Dutchy," says I, "what makes you let that bow-legged cross between a bulldog and a flamin' red sunset tromp on you so?
It looks to me like you're plumb spiritless." Dutchy stopped wiping glasses for a minute.
"Just you hold on" says he.

"I ain't ready yet.

Bimeby I make him sick; also those others who laugh with him." He had a little grey flicker in his eye, and I thinks to myself that maybe they'd get Dutchy on the peck yet.
As I said, I went broke in just six weeks and two days.

And I was broke a plenty.