“Dirty,” says I, “being as we’ve got a long dry spell ahead of us, I
reckon we might as well start now by busting this on a rock.”
“My gosh! Don’t do that, Ike. Save it for snakes.”
That awful word again! I slammed that bottle straight for Dirty’s head,
but I missed him, and it flew among them burros. I hears that bottle
thump; then comes a grunt, a rattle, and broken glass and whisky flew
all over us.
“Ike,” says Dirty awed-like, “when a jackass kicks at it on the fly, she
ain’t neither good for man nor beast. I’m glad I killed your vote.”
“Killed my vote?”
“Uh-huh. Ike, I didn’t figure that either side had any favors coming
from me and you, and I knowed how you’d vote; so I decided they wouldn’t
profit if I could help it, and I—I killed your Wet vote. _Sabe?_”
“You did like ——!” says I. “You added to it.”
And we pointed again toward the north star.
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in Adventure Magazine,
August 18, 1919. It is believed to be in the public domain in the
United States; copyright status may differ in other countries.]