"Oh!" came simultaneously from half a dozen. Personally, it struck me one might pick flowers for a certain purpose in the bush without being observed.
"Mayflowers in June!" scoffed the boy.
"Aye, babe! Mayflowers in June! May is June in these here regions," asserted the man. "Ladies-and-gentlemen, too, many's you could pick in the bush!"
"Ladies-and-gentlemen! Sounds funny in this desert, don't it?" asked the lad. "What are ladies-and-gentlemen?"
"Don't you know?" continued the gambler, unfolding a curious lore of flowers. "Those little potty, white things, split up the middle with a green head on top—grow under ferns. Come on. Cards are ready! Who's going to play?"
"Durn it! Them's Dutchman's breeches!" exclaimed the sun-browned trapper. "O Goll! If that Little Stature finds any Dutchman's breeches, she that's so scared of us men! O Goll! Won't she blush? Say, babe, why don't y'r fill y'r hat with 'em and put 'em in her tent?" and the big trapper set up a hoarse guffaw which led a general chorus. Then the men gathered round, to play.
"Faith, lads!" interrupted the voice of the Irish priest, who had come upon the group so quietly the gambler scarcely had time to tuck the tell-tale cards under his buckskin smock, "I'm thinking ye've all developed a mighty sudden interest in botany. Are there any bleeding hearts in the bush?"
"There may be here," suggested the boy.
"It all comes of the Little Statute!" declared the big trapper.
"Oh! You and your Stature and Statute! Why can't you say Statue?" asked the lad with the pompous scorn of youthful knowledge.