Seemed to me that that was Sandy Ferguson that you hot-footed out of that door--or has Sandy got a double ?" "Nope," said the bartender, wiping the last of the perspiration from his forehead, "that's Sandy, all right." "Then gimme a big drink.

I need it." The bottle spun expertly across the bar, and the glasses tinkled after.
"Funny about him, all right," nodded Flanders, "but then it's happened the same way with others I could tell about.

As long as he was winnin' Sandy was the king of any roost.

The minute he lost a fight he wasn't worth so many pounds of salt pork.

Take a hoss; a fine hoss is often jest the same.