I've tried it. For God's sake don't drink any more. What's the use? Smile
in the seesaw of the knives. You can only be killed once, and, believe me,
there's twice the fun in taking bad luck naked, as it were. Do you
remember the time you and I and Ned Bassett, the H.B. company's man,
struck the camp of bloods on the Gray Goose river? How the squaw lied and
said he was the trader that dropped their messenger in a hot spring, and
they began to peel Ned before our eyes? How he said as they drew the first
chip from his shoulder, 'Tell the company, boys, that it's according to
the motto on their flag, Pro Pelle Cutem--Skin For Skin?' How the woman
backed down, and he got off with a strip of his pelt gone? How the
medicine man took little bits of us and the red niggers, too, and put them
on the raw place and fixed him up again? Well, that's the way to do it,
and if you come up smiling every time you get your pound of flesh one way
or another. Play the game with a clear head and a little insolence,
Gladney, and you won't find the world so bad at its worst.
"So much for so much. Now for the commission you gave me. I'd rather it
had been anything else, for I think I'm the last man in the world for duty
where women are concerned. That reads queer, but you know what I mean.
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