"That's true," says he quiet like. "When you think of it, all life is only a theft every way. Each human being steals from all others. That's the way the world goes on. The coming generation steals always from the one that has gone by. Tell me, is that wrong? And tell me, can you and I judge if it is?" I set and thought for quite a while, trying to figure out things. I couldn't. At last I reached up and threw my gun away into the sage. XXVII HOW I QUIT OLD MAN WRIGHT I went back to the railroad station as soon as a wagon come along that would give me a ride, about half a hour after I left the hired man in the buckboard. Then I went on up to Cody. When I got there I done what anybody who knows cowpunchers knows I'd do in them circumstances. I certainly did run true to form. First, I went to the telegraph office and sent a telegram to Old Man Wright: "Don't do nothing till you hear from me." Next, I showed I was a good business man by going and buying a railroad ticket back to Chicago; and I left it and ten dollars with the clerk at the hotel. It might of been seven or eight days I was busy celebrating my losing my job like a cowpuncher almost always does. Having so much money it took me quite a while to finish decorating Cody the way I liked it best. Still, after a while, being down to ten dollars and the railroad ticket, I concluded to go back home. When I got back to Chicago I found Old Man Wright setting right where I'd left him and he looked like he really hadn't done nothing since. His hair was right long and his face was full of whiskers. "Well, I found 'em," says I. "What did you do, Curly?" says he. "I didn't shoot him none," says I. "So to speak, he taken my gun away from me." "Huh! Where is she? How is she?" I had to tell him I didn't bring no word from Bonnie Bell at all, and hadn't seen her even. "I couldn't stand it, Colonel," says I. "He made a awful strong talk to me, Colonel," says I. He didn't say nothing for a long time. He begin to talk right slow then. "I thought I had one friend in the world," says he, "one man I could rest on. But even you've gone back on me--even you failed me, Curly." "Yes, Colonel," says I. "I've done a heap worse than that. I know how you feel and I feel the same way. I ain't fitten to be your foreman. You only brought me on here because you was so damn softhearted you couldn't fire me. You didn't use no judgment or you'd of fired me then, and a hundred times since then. All this whole mix-up was because I didn't have no brains--I couldn't see a load of hay; yet it was me that was doing all the seeing--you never took no hand in it at all. Shore, I fell down! You ain't firing me right now; I fire myself. I've come back to say that to you, Colonel. I taken about a week in Cody to think it all over--with help." He only set and looked at me, and I had a hard time trying to talk. I told him where them two was living.