"Who told you that?" asked Jack.
"'E did 'imself, 'bout two days back."
"And whatever is the malady of this here weak-kneed kyard-sharp?" inquired Broncho, in his slow, polite way.
"'E sez as 'ow h'it's consumption which 'as 'im in its gruesome clutches."
"I ain't heard him kaufin' none," remarked the cowboy suspiciously. "I cuts the trail one time of a gent who cashes in from that cawpse-makin' complaint, an' he shore coughs a heap plentyful, an' that loud an' wideflung you couldn't bed-down in the same teepee with him an' make any sort o' success o' slumber. His kaufin' that-away shore puts a bull-moose to shame."
"Now, see 'ere, ducky, I ain't er-sayin' as 'ow that ain't the general racket; but Bob, 'e sez to me, sezzee, 'I'm past the korfin' styge; h'I just spits up my lungs in chunks; h'I ain't the strength to korf,'" returned the cockney doggedly.
"I ain't in line for no sech flapdoodle as that," drawled Broncho. "He ain't goin' to fool this old he-coon none that-away. Why, consumption can no more make a play without kaufin' than smallpox can without spots."
"'Ave it 'ow you loike—h'I just tells you what 'e sez, that's h'all," retorted the cockney angrily.
"Thet's right, pard; but I reckons Broncho calls the deal correct when he says that consumption ain't no more than a low-grade malady without kaufin'. It's kaufin' that makes it the clean-sweep disease that it is," joined in old Bedrock Ben.