You ask anybody." "We-ell--I guess mebby I better--I don't see how I'm goin' to git along any other way, but--" Casey had gone to find where Juan had cached himself and to pluck that apathetic youth from slumber and set him to work.

Four casings and tubes for a two-ton truck run into money, as Casey was telling himself complacently.

He had not yet sold any tires for a two-ton truck, and he had just two fabrics and two cords, in trade vernacular.

He paid no further attention to the man, since there would be no bickering.

When a man has only two badly chewed tires, and four wheels, argument is superfluous.
So Casey mildly kicked Juan awake and after the garage jack, and himself wheeled out his four great pneumatic tires, and with his jackknife slit the wound paper covering, and wondered what it was that smelled so unpleasant.