“Just a little damp.”
“I tell ye I don’t want one,” says the stockman, angrily.
“Well, ye needn’t be so darned short about it. It’s nothin’ to me whether you drinks or not. Good mornin’.”
“Good mornin’,” says Jimmy, and has ridden on about twenty yards when he hears the other calling on him to stop.
“See here, Jimmy!” he says, overtaking him again. “If you’ll do me a kindness when you’re up in town, I’d be obliged.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a letter, Jim, as I wants posted. It’s an important one too, an’ I wouldn’t trust it with everyone; but I knows you, and if you’ll take charge on it it’ll be a powerful weight off my mind.”
“Give it here,” Jimmy says, laconically.
“I hain’t got it here. It’s round in my caboose. Come round for it with me. It ain’t more’n quarter of a mile.”
Jimmy consents reluctantly. When they reach the tumble-down hut the keeper asks him cheerily to dismount and to come in.