"Cherokee Hall an' me is settin' in the Red Light, whilin' away time
between bev'rages with argyments, when Enright comes ploddin' along
in with the tidin's. Cherokee an' me, by a sing'lar coincidence, is
discussin' the topic of 'probity' that a-way, although our
loocubrations don't flourish none concernin' stage rustlin'.
Cherokee is sayin':
"'Now, I holds that trade--what you-all might call commerce, is
plenty sappenin' to the integrity of folks. Meanin' no aspersions on
any gent in camp, shorely not on the proprietors of the New York
Store, what I reiterates is that I never meets up with the party who
makes his livin' weighin' things, or who owns a pa'r of scales,
who's on the level that a-way. Which them balances, looks like,
weaves a spell on a gent's moral princ'ples. He's no longer on the
squar'.'
"I'm r'ared back on my hocks organizin' to combat the fal'cies of
Cherokee, when Enright pulls up a cha'r. By the clouds on his face,
both me an' Cherokee sees thar's somethin' on the old chief's mind a
lot, wherefore we lays aside our own dispootes--which after all, has
no real meanin', an' is what Colonel William Greene Sterett calls
'ac'demic'--an' turns to Enright to discover whatever is up.
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