"Shake!" says he. "Some folks gets what other folks wishes. Ain't it the truth?"
"What do you mean?" I ast him.
"Well," says he, "I always wanted to be a cowboy, yet I never did have a chance to go on a ranch."
"You're the gardener, ain't you?" says I, and he nods.
"That's all I get to do. Still, I may have a chance to do better sometime."
He was a right nice-looking fellow, clean shaved and his hair cut good, and his mustache cut right short. He looks down at his clothes now, but he didn't seem to care—acted like he had plenty more; and he laughed. He was wet, but he wasn't shivering. He come pretty near drowning but he wasn't scared. I rather liked him even if he was only a hired man like myself. He seemed sort of hardy.
"You know how she got me?" he ast me now. "She threw the loop of a rope over me, and if I hadn't got it in my hand I reckon she'd of choked me to death."
"She's a good roper," says I, "and she can ride as well as she can rope."
"Could you ever show me how to rope?" says he. "Would you?"
"Shore I'll show you sometime if we ever get a chance," says I. "I'll look round in our ranch room there in the house, and see if I can find a rope."