Tall in the Saddle Page #3

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His friends, eh?

What happened this time?

- Bumped his head.

- Where? On Iron Mountain?

Where's the best chance of a cheap room?

Cap's place across the street,

the Sunup Saloon.

- Saloon?

- Saloon.

- Where's the hotel?

- Up the street a piece, lady.

Are we expected to carry our bags

this time of night?

- Do you want to drive them on up?

- Nope.

I'll pick up my saddle tomorrow.

Well?

Hey, Doc, customer.

Take my hand, Shorty.

What happened here?

- Bumped his head.

- So I see.

Looks like he's going to need

a couple or so stitches.

You better get him up to a room.

I'll get a key.

- Book me for one, too.

- I'll help you with him.

He'll be all right.

How about a little snort?

- Don't mind if I do.

- Come along.

- Will he make it?

- Sure he'll make it.

You can't kill off an old jug-wallow

like Dave that easy.

You're right.

I reckon Saint Peter's getting

mighty weary...

dusting off that doormat for him.

- What'll you have?

- Whisky.

Same.

- By the way, how'd you say it happened?

- I didn't.

That's right. You didn't.

The reason I ask,

there were a couple of fellas in here...

that said that Dave was kicking up

quite a ruckus up at Stan's place.

Sheriff Jackson it was, and Bob Clews.

Tough customers, those Clews boys.

It don't pay to start nothing with them

you don't intend to finish.

No.

Say, Doc, they tell me

George is getting out again.

Yes! That's Bob Clews' brother.

Just did a stretch in the penitentiary

for horse stealing.

They string them up for that

where I come from.

Too bad they didn't string Clews up

while they were about it.

- Here's how.

- Mud.

That's a good hand.

What did I tell you?

They got to be big to beat me.

Clint Harolday's luck is good tonight, huh?

They're certainly running for him.

It's about time.

He's taken a beating this last week

that would shake a better man.

Include me out.

- Come on. Can't you take it?

- Not with that kind of luck, I can't.

Besides, I only sat in to oblige.

Come on, Doc.

I still got to take something from you.

No more tonight, son.

How about you, sir? Care to sit in?

I must warn you

that our young friend here...

is holding phenomenal cards.

- Don't mind if I do.

- That's fine.

- This is Pat Fosler.

- How are you?

- Ab Jenkins.

- How are you?

Shorty Davis, and Clint Harolday.

My name is Garvey. Judge Garvey, sir.

I don't believe I got yours.

- Rocklin.

- How do you do, sir? Please sit down.

Anybody got any change?

You won't need any change

in this game, mister.

- I'll let you have some, sir.

- Deal, Ab.

I'm up.

Your bet.

It's open for $3.

- I'm out.

- Raise you $20.

- I'm out.

- Beats me.

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