“I didn’t stay to see,” Vinegar sighed. “Fer a fack, I wus makin’ myse’f absent befo’ she lit.”
Suddenly Skeeter Butts began to laugh. He slapped his brown hand upon his thigh and cackled like a hen. The more he laughed the funnier something got to him.
“I knows whut ails Vinegar, brudders,” he snickered. “He’s done see a——”
Skeeter’s assertion paused in midair, because the door of the Hen-Scratch saloon was pushed open, and the second man had arrived from Moccasin prairie.
This man was a stranger, and was built on circular lines, round head, round eyes, round face, round body. His character and modes of thought and action also followed curved lines. There was nothing straight about him.
“Good evenin’, brudders,” he greeted them. “My name am Red Cutt. Kin you-alls tell me whut town dis is?”
“How come you don’t know whar you is at?” Skeeter asked suspiciously.
“I jes’ landed,” Red Cutt remarked simply.
“Didn’t de train corndoctor tell you whar you wus gittin’ off?” Hitch Diamond rumbled. “Or mebbe you rid de brake rods?”
“Naw, suh,” Red Cutt replied smilingly. “I rode through de air.”