"Certainly I do."
"Well," went on the cowboy, "I never gets my brand on to her, though I near has the hobbles on more'n once."
"I'm very sorry to hear that, Broncho. I thought you were in double harness long ago."
"Well, I never does fasten somehow, though I ropes at her continuous; then one day she goes curvin' off with that ere miscreant Montana Joe, which has me plumb disgusted. I just chucks a pair o' blankets across my saddle, stuffs a wad o' notes in my war-bags, an' lights right out. Finally I makes Frisco, where I gets to drownin' dull care with nosepaint; an' I makes sech a success of that ere undertakin' that I presently finds myself as you-alls knows."
"Sidelights out, hand on the look-out!" roared Black Davis from aft.
"Aye, aye, sir!" came back the answer, and night began.
The following evening Jack, Broncho, and the boy Jim were yarning together on the foc's'le head, when a terrific uproar broke out on the deck below them. There was a hurricane of deep-sea laughter, and the next moment the small form of the cockney disengaged itself from the crowd, and came dashing up the topgallant ladder.
"Jack!" he cried, "Jack, wot's a genelman?"
"Why, Jack is, er course," burst out the boy.
"I mean, wot mykes a genelman?"