There was this guy, Lonesome Walt. Don’t know his tribe. Him and his brother got a settlement from the BIA, twenty grand, ‘cause they found gas on his land. Well, Walt, he’d always lived on the tramp so he just kept on livin’ that-a-way. He’d be sittin’ in the jungle and send guys on a run for a jug and give ‘em a hunnerd dollar bill and tell ‘em to keep the change. Me, Jesse Montana, and Dewey were jungled with him out at the end of the apple yards in Wenatchee, and he kept sendin’ each one of us on runs. Now, a jug don’t last too long between four guys, so we made a lotta runs. Hell, we told him to keep his money. But he didn’t care. Seemed like he’d just as soon be rid of it. Practic’ly givin’ it away.  By now, Lonesome Walt’s probably broke, I s’pose.

103.