“Yes—but I load from cars at the far end o’ town. I guess that’s why you missed me. They told me you was in and gone ag’in, and I lit out after ye, two hours behind, thinkin’ sure my six could overtake those two old chuckawallas o’ yours.”
“Be careful, Bill!” warned Madge. “These are my mules, remember.”
“Yes’m, I guess they are. But if ye’ll cast yer yellow eyes over these here marvels I’m drivin’ ye’ll admit that ‘chuckawallas’ is right.”
“My eyes are not yellow!” retorted Madge.
“They’re tagger eyes, that’s what they are—dangerous eyes. But quit pickin’ on me, Madge. I was tellin’ Tony that I hadn’t meant to ramble out till th’ followin’ mornin’, but when I heard he was on th’ road I says I’ll ketch ’im, an’ we’ll make the merry pilgrimage together. But I had a confoun’ breakdown th’ other side o’ Bobcat Point an’ it set me back. But I knew ye’d camp here, Tony, so I kep’ th’ shavetails ramblin’. An’ here we are, all hi-yu skookum!
“But about them moron fellas, Tony?” Bill was busily engaged in unharnessing his mules while he rattled on, and Shanty Madge had gone to help him. “Wasn’t it morons that th’ U. S. soldiers fought in th’ Philippines?—those boys that swung th’ mean bolos an’ was plumb cultus in a scrap?”
“Not quite,” Joshua laughed. “The morons are worse than that, Bill.”
Bill stopped stock-still in the midst of leading his swing team to the watering trough, and the mules pressed past him, one on either side, until they were straining toward the trough at the ends of their lead-ropes.
“I know what they are,” Bill declared with conviction. “They’re them birds in Utah that have a dozen mujeres apiece! I never thought o’ that till this confoun’ minute—seems. And here I ain’t got even one woman to love me. I sure oughta slapped that Ike! Guess I’ll hook ’im up an’ go back to Spur an’ ’tend to it.”
“Bill, if you don’t hurry up with those mules and close that crack in your face I’ll throw this grub in the fire and go to bed,” warned Joshua.