"Big Injun," Chantry suggested, "you make him a coffin. All right?"
"Blanket good enough." Big Injun was abrupt. "Worms eat him, anyway."
"I want a coffin for him. Will you make it or do I hire somebody else?"
"One dollar?"
"All right."
Everything with Big Injun was one dollar. Didn't he know what twenty-five cents was? Or was he smart enough not to learn?
(from Borden Chantry, by Louis L'Amour)
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