Smokepole wakes up and says, "Why didn't you sheepherders tell me the only screwin' I'd get upstairs was from that danged lawyer Dagit. Better let the mayor know that he needs another barrister in this town. That maggot Dagit tried to serve me papers. He's suin' me, that putz. Well, Ishoved his briefs into his briefs. He screamed, clumb down the rain pipe and lit out o' town like a cheap whore in a temperance rally." Old Sarge straightened up, walked to the bar, slugged down a long pull of George Dickel and turned, "Now, where's them tarts hidin'?"