I sent Patsy on in to town after--" "Town?
And us out here--" Big Medicine choked over his wrongs.
Irish waited until he could get in a word and then started to explain.
But Pink rode up with his hatbrim flapping soggily against one dripping cheek when the wind caught it, and his coat buttoned wherever there were buttons, and his collar turned up, and looking pinched and draggled and wholly miserable.
"Say! Got anything to eat ?" he shouted when he came near, his voice eager and hopeful.
"No!" snapped Irish with the sting of Big Medicine's vituperations rankling fresh in his soul.
"Well why ain't yuh?
Where's Patsy ?" Pink came closer and eyed the newcomer truculently.
"How'n hell do I know ?" Irish was getting a temper to match their own.
"Well, why don't yuh know?
What do yuh think you're out here for?
To tell us you think it's going to rain?
If we was all of us like you, there'd be nothing to it for the nester-bunch.

It's a wonder you come alive enough to ride out this way at all! I don't reckon you've even got anything to drink!" Pink paused a second, saw no move toward producing anything wet and cheering, and swore disgustedly.

"Of course not! You needed it all yourself! So help me Josephine, if I was as low-down ornery as some I could name I'd tie myself to a mule's tail and let him kick me to death! Ain't got any grub! Ain't got--" Irish interrupted him then with a sentence that stung.

Irish, remember, distinctly approved of himself and his actions.

True, he had forgotten to bring anything to eat with him, but there was excuse for that in the haste with which he had left his own breakfast.