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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Going Some"

"
"Haven't you boys risked enough already?" ventured Miss Chapin.
"Remember, it will go pretty hard with the losers."
"Harder the better," came a voice.
"Y'all don't have to bet, jest because I'm h'yar," gibed
Gallagher.
"God! I wish I was rich!" exclaimed Willie.
But Miss Chapin persisted. "You are two months overdrawn, all of
you. My brother won't advance you any more."
"Then my man, Lawrence, will take what they can't cover," offered
Speed.
"That's right! Clean 'em good, brothers," croaked the trainer.
"If you'll step over to the bunk-house, Gabby, we'll dig up some
personal perquisites and family heirlooms." Stover nodded toward
his men's quarters, and Gallagher grinned joyously.
"That shore listens like a band from where I set. We aim to annex
the wages, hopes, and personal ambitions of y'all, along with
your talkin'-machine."
"Excuse me." Willie pushed his way forward. "How's she gettin'
along?"
"Fine!"
"You mule-skinners ain't broke her?"
"No; we plays her every evenin'."
The little man shifted his feet; then allowed himself to inquire,
as if regarding the habits of some dear departed friend:
"Have you chose any favorite records?"
"We all has our picks.


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