"A dam' lie would come nearer to it!" sneered Hardy, curling his lips with spleen; and at the word Brigham rose swiftly to his feet.
"If you're lookin' fer trouble, Mr. Atkins," he said, taking off his hat and laying it carefully to one side, "you don't need to go no further. And if you ain't," he cried, suddenly advancing with blood in his eye, "you take back what you said, or I'll slap yore face off!"
The astounding ease with which he got a rise out of his adversary seemed to take all the fight out of Hardy Atkins, and he mumbled some vague words of apology; but Brigham was hard to mollify.
"Well, that's all right," he grumbled. "It ain't my fault if you go on a drunk and lose yore job, and it ain't my fault if the boss makes me straw—but don't you try to crowd me, Hardy Atkins, or I'll make you match yore words. The man never lived that can call me a liar and git away with it, and I'll thank you to let me alone."
He went back and sat down by the fire, puffing and panting with the violence of his emotions; but as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire and no one interrupted his mood he fell into a cynical philosophy.
"Mighty funny about these Tee-hannos," he said, glancing around at the respectful company. "They say, back in Texas, when a man gits where he can count fifty they set him to teachin' school—and when he can count up to a hundred he gits on to himse'f and leaves the cussed country. Ordinary folks kin only count to twenty—ten fingers and ten toes, like an Injun. It's sure a fine country to emigrate from."
He looked about with a superior smile, and Buck Buchanan took up the cudgels for Texas.
"They tell me, Brig," he said, "that them Mormons down on the river cain't talk no mo'—jest kinder git along by signs and a kind of sheep-blat they have."
"Nope," answered Brigham; "they is sech people, but they don't live along the Heely. Them fellers you're thinkin' of is in the goat business—they don't say baaa, like a sheep; they go maaa like a goat. I've heard tell of them, too. It seems they don't wear no pants—nothin' but shirts. They live on them goat ranches back in western Texas."
He paused and looked around for appreciation, but only the nester kids smiled.