urs. Eh,
Bob? We could do with it. Pity, ain't it?"

Bob turned. His eyes sought the face in the shadow of the doorway.

"I'm no descendant of Judas," he said coldly.

"No. But--Judas didn't sell a gang of murdering cattle rustlers. That
ain't Judas money."

"Maybe. But it's blood money all the same."

"Mighty bad blood that oughter be spilt."

Bob turned away. His gaze wandered out westward. Then his eyes came
slowly back to the man in the door-way.

"You thought I was talking hot air just now--about a man's price. You
didn't like it. Well, when I find myself with a price I hope I shan't
live to be paid it. That's all."

The man in the doorway shook his head. Then he spoke slowly,
deliberately. And somehow much of the sharpness had gone out of his
tone, and the hard glitter of his steely eyes had somehow become less
pronounced.

"Oh, I guess I got your meanin' right, fer all yer thousand dollar
langwidge. Sure, I took you right away. But--it don't signify a cuss
anyways. Guess you was born a gentleman, Bob, which I wa'an't. An'
because you was born an' raised that-a-way you'd surely like to kep
right hold o' the notion that folks ken still act as though they'd been
weaned on talk of honor an' sichlike. I sez kep a holt on that notion.
Grip it tight, an' don't never let go on it. Grab it same as you would
the feller that's yearnin' fer your scalp. If you lose your grip that
tow-colored scalp of yours'll be raised sure, an' every penicious
breeze that blows 'll get into your think depot and hand you every sort
of mental disease ther' ain't physic enough in the world to cure.
Guess that's plumb right. It don't cut no ice what I think. A feller
like me jest thinks the way life happens to boost him. Y'see, I ain't
had no thousand dollar eddication to make me see things any other ways.
Life's a mighty tough proposition an' it can't be run on no schedule,
an' each feller's got to travel the way he sees with his own two eyes.
If he's got the spectacles of a thousand dollar eddication he's an
a'mighty lucky feller, an' I'm guessin' they'll help him dodge a whole
heap o' muck holes he'd otherwise bury his silly head in. So hang on,
boy. Grip them darn fool notions so they ain't got a chance. If you
let go--wal, you'll get a full-sized peek into a pretty fancy sort o'
hell wher' ther' ain't any sort o' chance o' dopin' your visions out o'
sight with Ju Penrose's belly wash. So long."

Ju p