Dock's a mighty good
workin' scrap, if you could only get him to carryin' his water right; if
he'd come down to three gauges he'd be a dandy, but this tryin' to run
first section with a flutter in the stack all the time is no good--he
must 'a flagged in."
Which, being translated into English, would carry the information that
Gun had seen one of the old ex-engineers at Bob Slattery's saloon, had
stopped and greeted him. Dock looked as if he had tramped, had drank,
was dirty, coat had holes, soles of his boots badly worn, wheezing,
seemed hungry and lifeless, been eating poor food, and was in a general
run-down condition. Gun had "set out his packing" by feeding him and put
him in a bed at the Grand Central Hotel--nicknamed the "Grayback's
Corral." Gun thought he would have to reform, before the M. M. put him
into active service. He was a good engineer, but drank too much, and
lastly, he was in so bad a condition he could not get himself into
headquarters unless someone helped him by "flagging" for him.
Gun was a bachelor; he came to us from the Pacific side, and told me
once that he first went west on account of a woman, but--begging Mr.
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