"What's yore name, you cub?"
"Elijah—ain't I done prophesied? When do I start punchin' yore eight cows, Boss?"
"Right now! I like yore infernal gall; an' there's a pleasant time comin' when I starts again' that spirit."
"Then my name's Jimmy, which is enough for you to know. Which cow do I punch first?" he grinned.
"You ride ahead along th' trail. I 'll show you where you eat," smiled the Boss, riding toward him.
Jimmy's face took on an expression of innocence that was ludicrous.
"I allus let age go first," he slowly responded. "I might get lost if I lead. I 'm plumb polite, I am."
The Boss looked searchingly at him and the smile faded. "What you mean by that?"
"Just what I said. I 'm plumb polite, an' hereby provin' it. I allus insist on bein' polite. Otherwise, gimme my month's pay an' I 'll resign. But I 'm shore some puncher," he laughed.
"I observed yore politeness. I 'm surprised you even know th' term. But are you shore you won't get lost if you foller me?" asked the Boss with great sarcasm.