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Page 25
"Whiskey," said Jim.
"Make it two," said the dogman.
"I don't know," said the ranchman, "where I'll find the man I want to take
charge of the Little Powder outfit. I want somebody I know something
about. Finest stretch of prairie and timber you ever squinted your eye
over, Sam. Now if you was --"
"Speaking of hydrophobia," said the dogman, "the other night he chewed a
piece out of my leg because I knocked a fly off of Marcella's arm. 'It
ought to be cauterized,' says Marcella, and I was thinking so myself. I
telephones for the doctor, and when he comes Marcella says to me: 'Help me
hold the poor dear while the doctor fixes his mouth. Oh, I hope he got no
virus on any of his toofies when he bit you.' Now what do you think of
that?"
"Does Missis Telfair--" began Jim.
"Oh, drop it," said the dogman. "Come again!"
"Whiskey," said Jim.
"Make it two," said the dogman.
They walked on to the ferry. The ranchman stepped to the ticket window.
Suddenly the swift landing of three or four heavy kicks was heard, the
air. was rent by piercing canine shrieks, and a pained, outraged,
lubberly, bow-legged pudding of a dog ran frenziedly up the street alone.
"Ticket to Denver," said Jim.
"Make it two," shouted the ex-dogman, reaching for his inside pocket.
VII THE CHAMPION OF THE WEATHER
If you should speak of the Kiowa Reservation to the average New Yorker he
probably wouldn't know whether you were referring to a new political dodge
at Albany or a leitmotif from "Parsifal." But out in the Kiowa Reservation
advices have been received concerning the existence of New York.
A party of us were on a hunting trip in the Reservation. Bud Kingsbury,
our guide, philosopher, and friend, was broiling antelope steaks in camp
one night. One of the party, a pinkish-haired young man in a correct
hunting costume, sauntered over to the fire to light a cigarette, and
remarked carelessly to Bud:
"Nice night!"
"Why, yes," said Bud, "as nice as any night could be that ain't received
the Broadway stamp of approval."
Now, the young man was from New York, but the rest of us wondered how Bud
guessed it. So, when the steaks were done, we besought him to lay bare
his system of ratiocination. And as Bud was something of a Territorial
talking machine he made oration as follows:
"How did I know he was from New York? Well, I figured it out as soon as
he sprung them two words on me. I was in New York myself a couple of
years ago, and I noticed some of the earmarks and hoof tracks of the
Rancho Manhattan."
"Found New York rather different from the Panhandle, didn't you, Bud?"
asked one of the hunters.
"Can't say that I did," answered Bud; "anyways, not more than some. The
main trail in that town which they call Broadway is plenty travelled, but
they're about the same brand of bipeds that tramp around in Cheyenne and
Amarillo, At first I was sort of rattled by the crowds, but I soon says to
myself, 'Here, now, Bud; they're just plain folks like you and Geronimo
and Grover Cleveland and the Watson boys, so don't get all flustered up
with consternation under your saddle blanket,' and then I feels calm and
peaceful, like I was back in the Nation again at a ghost dance or a green
corn pow-wow.
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