McTeague heard two brakemen discussing him one night as they stood
outside by the halted train. "The livery-stable keeper called him a
bastard; that's what Picachos told me," one of them remarked, "and
started to draw his gun; an' this fellar did for him with a hayfork.
He's a horse doctor, this chap is, and the livery-stable keeper had got
the law on him so's he couldn't practise any more, an' he was sore about
it."
Near a place called Queen's the train reentered California, and McTeague
observed with relief that the line of track which had hitherto held
westward curved sharply to the south again. The train was unmolested;
occasionally the crew fought with a gang of tramps who attempted to ride
the brake beams, and once in the northern part of Inyo County, while
they were halted at a water tank, an immense Indian buck, blanketed to
the ground, approached McTeague as he stood on the roadbed stretching
his legs, and without a word presented to him a filthy, crumpled letter.
The letter was to the effect that the buck Big Jim was a good Indian and
deserving of charity; the signature was illegible. The dentist stared at
the letter, returned it to the buck, and regained the train just as it
started.
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