“ I got a First of May here. Fresh from the crate. Think you can use him?”
The figure steps forward onto the ramp. He pushes up the brim of battered hat with a hand missing three of its fingers. He‘s scrutinizes me, shoots an oyster of dark brown tobacco juice out the side of his mouth, and goes back inside.
Camel pats my arm in a congratulatory fashion. “You‘re in kid”.