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Page 87
"Will you? an' let me put in whatever I want fer jokes on the
boys?"
"Yep, everything goes."
"Oh, I'll give 'em somethin' to dream on, you can bet yer sweet
life! Soap fer Fresno's finger, clothes-pin fer Show Low's nose,
bottle o' anty-fat fer Slim. It's a swop, Miss Polly!"
"Well, out with yer great secret o' bread-makin'."
"Well, Miss Polly, I take flour, an' water, an' sourin's, an' a
pinch o' salt--"
"Flour an' water, an' sourin's, an' a pinch o' salt," repeated
Polly, totting the list off on her fingers. "Why, so do I, an'
so does every one. It must lie in the workin'. How long do you
work the dough, Parenthesis?"
"It must lie in the workin'," repeated Parenthesis solemnly.
"Why, I work it, an' work it--" he continued, with exasperating
slowness.
"How long do you work it?" asked Polly impatiently.
"Till my han's look purty clean like!" said Parenthesis, holding
up his floury paws.
"Then you've got a day's work still before you!" snapped Polly,
huffed at seeing herself the victim of a chaffing that she
herself had begun. "I won't bother you any longer. So long!"
Parenthesis, however, desired to continue the conversation.
"When is this yere hitch between you and Bud comin' off?" he
asked.
Polly drew herself up proudly, and, speaking assumed haughtiness,
replied: "We're figurin' on sendin' out the cards next month."
The cowboy's eyes twinkled. "Well, I'm a-goin' to give up
cigaroot-smokin'."
"What for?" asked Polly, in surprise.
"Goin' in trainin' to kiss the bride."
"That's nice!" said Polly, beaming.
"Yep, have to take up chawin', like Bud Lane."
Polly was saved from having to answer by Sage-brush galloping up
to the wagon.
"Put on your gun!" he shouted to Parenthesis.
Asking no questions, the cow-puncher obeyed his foreman. Trouble
was brewing, that he could plainly see. All he had to do was to
obey orders, and shoot when any one tried to point a gun at him.
Turning to Polly, he cried: "Where's Mrs. Payson?"
"She came over with me, but stopped to look over the tally for
those cows that are goin' with the drive."
More to himself than to Parenthesis or Polly, Sage-brush said: "I
wish she'd stayed at the ranch. This range is no place for women
now. Buck McKee and his outfit has tanked up with Gila whisky,
an' they're just pawin' for trouble."
"What's come over people lately?" asked Polly.
"It's all along of Hoover goin' away like he did, and leavin' us
without a sheriff, or nobody that is anybody makin' a bluff at
law and order," cried Sage-brush.
"It's sot this section back twenty years," observed Parenthesis.
"That's what it has," agreed the foreman. "Fresno reports that
he found that Peruna slappin' the Lazy K brand on one of our
calves. There ain't nobody can maverick no calves belongin' to
this outfit. Not so long as I'm ranch boss an' captain of the
round-up. We've got to take the law in our own han's an' make an
example of this bunch, right now."
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