“But I reckon you need Root-ee, all the same. Do you ever feel kinda full and stuffy after meals?”
“Yaw.”
“Now, don’t that show! Dutchy, I’m sorry, but it’s a cinch you got the bliggers!”
Wal, he bit.
The station-agent was standin’ right next me. “Cupid,” he whispers, “I hear you got a candi-date in fer the prettiest gal. What you say about runnin’ as the homeliest man?”
“No,” I answers, quick, “I don’t hanker fer the honour. (That ’d hurt me with her, y’ savvy.) Then, I begun chinnin’ with Sparks, that owns the corral.
“Great stuff, that Root-ee,” I says. “Reckon the redskins knowed a heap more about curin’ than anybody’s ever give ’em credit fer. Tried the medicine yet, Sparks?”
Sparks said no, he didn’t think he needed it.
“Wal, a man never knows,” I goes on. “Now, mebbe, of a mornin’, when you wake up, you feel tired and sorta stretchy; wisht you could just roll over and take another snooze.”
“Bet I do!”