"A what?"
"A geological reconnoissance party," repeated the boy, "a government survey."
"Geological reconnoissance is good!" exclaimed the Westerner. "If that salubrious phrase is a maverick, I reckon I'll brand it and inclood it in my string. But there was a bunch here the other day, with three-legged telescopes and barbers' poles, just like what you describe."
"How long ago?" asked the boy.
"'Bout a week, I surmise. An' they can't have got any thousand miles away, either, because, as I understood 'em, they was a-contemplatin' drawin' little picture-maps of the country as they went along."
Roger nodded understandingly.
"I know," he said, "that's just the delineation of the topographical contour."
The Westerner's jaw dropped for a moment, but he was game, and came right up to the scratch.
"Topographical contour I like!" he said. "This is our busy day on language. It may be a new sort of drink for all I know, but it sounds well. I presoom, partner, that you had better lend your valooable assistance to the delineation of the topographical contour on a geological reconnoissance!"
He looked round for the applause of the little gathering, which was readily and gleefully accorded him.