Of course,
he wanted it; but that wasn't the ONLY thing he
was into the Sagraw game fur. If he had money,
he was free with it and would help most any one
out of a hole. But he wasn't thinking it and talking
it all the time then.
But now he was thinking money and dream-
ing money and talking of nothing but how
to get it. And planning to make it out of
skinning them niggers. He didn't care a dern
how he worked on their feelings to get it. He
didn't even seem to care whether he killed Sam
trying them drugs onto him. He wanted MONEY,
and he wanted it so bad he was ready and
willing to take up with most any wild scheme
to make it.
They was something about him now that didn't
fit in much with the Doctor Kirby I had knowed.
It seemed like he had spells when he saw himself
how he had changed. He wasn't gay and joking
all the time like he had been before, neither. I
guess the doctor was getting along toward fifty
years old. I suppose he thought if he was ever
going to get anything out of his gift of the gab he
better settle down to something, and quit fooling
around, and do it right away. But it looked to
me like he might never turn the trick. Fur he was
drinking right smart all the time. Drinking made
him think a lot, and thinking was making him look
old.
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