Playing Safe in Piperock

by W. C. Tuttle

“‘Magpie,’” says I, “if my corns wasn’t hurting —— out of me I’d have tears in my eyes from such sentiment. I’m all choked up—with alkali.”“You’ve got to admit that she rhymes,” says Magpie Simpkins, spitting out a mouthful of dust and lifting his canteen to his lips. “I done figured ’em all out of my own head, Ike.”