"See here, Ted," said the golden-haired cow-puncher, "whar did yer pick up ther maverick what's up at ther house? I hear he come with yer."
"I met him on the road, and he wanted to know if the major would put him up for the night, and I told him I thought he would be welcome," answered Ted.
"Of course he'd be welcome. Ther major would welcome a yaller dog with ther mange, out in this yere lonely place. But say, boy, does yer know what yer brought?"
"Why? I don't understand you exactly, I'm afraid."
"Yes, yer do. Who is that feller? He's not Dickson. Who is he?"
"Search me."
"That's what I'm tryin' ter do, an' if yer don't give up peaceful, I'm goin' through yer, minute."
"Do you know who he is?"
"I've got my suspicions. I see a feller up to Phoenix what's ther dead ringer fer him, an' his name wasn't Dickson then."
"What was it?"