CHAPTER VI: REPUTATIONSThat night Charley Prentice got as drunk as the proverbial boiled owl. For several years Prentice had totally abstained from all liquor, but this night he drank himself blind drunk at the Oasis and took two quarts of whisky home with him.
It was nothing unusual for a man to get drunk in Lobo Wells, but for a man in Charley Prentice’s position it was not quite the right thing. Harry Cole had tried to dissuade him, but he refused to accept advice.
“You don’t want that stuff, Charley,” said Cole. “You can’t afford to fill yore skin with hard liquor.”
“Lemme alone,” said Charley owlishly. “My business.”
And Amos Baggs, not at all a teetotaller, looked with disfavour upon Charley. He had a few drinks with Charley, arguing against it all the time, but Charley was too d
