I hearn the window shut and purty soon the front door opened.
"Come up here," he says. I come.
"Who rode that hoss yo' been talking about?" he asts.
"One of the SILENT BRIGADE," I tells him, as Bud had told me to say. I give him the grip Bud had showed me with his good hand.
"Come on in," he says.
He shut the door behind us and lighted a lamp agin. And we looked each other over. He was a scrawny little feller, with little gray eyes set near together, and some sandy-complected whiskers on his chin. I told him about Bud, and what his fix was.
"Damn it—oh, damn it all," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I don't see how on AIRTH I kin do it. My wife's jest had a baby. Do yo' hear that?"
And I did hear a sound like kittens mewing, somewheres up stairs. Beauregard, he grinned and rubbed his nose some more, and looked at me like he thought that mewing noise was the smartest sound that ever was made.
"Boy," he says, grinning, "bo'n five hours ago. I've done named him Burley—after the tobaccer association, yo' know. Yes, SIR, Burley Peoples is his name—and he shore kin squall, the derned little cuss!"
"Yes," I says, "you better stay with Burley. Lend me a rig of some sort and I'll take Bud home."