“Do you understand what he means, Griggs?” said Chris. “I think you’ve upset him by talking about cooking and eating snake.”
“It wasn’t that,” said Griggs. “He must have got out of bed the wrong way this morning.”
“Yes; a nice sort of bed! Nothing but rough sage-brush, crumbling up as soon as it’s moved, and looking like so much gritty imitation tea.”
“Same sort of bed as we had, squire, and we don’t grumble. Why, you’re not half a fellow. Like to go back perhaps?”
“That I shouldn’t!” snapped out Ned, so suddenly that his mustang started and had to be checked and soothed. “Can’t a fellow speak? I don’t want to grumble, but it is so monotonous.”
“You said that before,” cried Chris banteringly.
“I know, Clevershakes!” retorted Ned. “And now I say it again. I’ve as good a right to speak as you have. If you don’t like the word monotonous, I’ll say dull and stupid. It’s ride and walk, ride and walk.”
“And walk and ride, walk and ride,” said Chris, imitating his old companion’s words and tones. “No adventures—nothing to see.”
“Not even a rattlesnake,” said Griggs softly.
“Look here, Mr Griggs,” snapped out Ned, “I wish you wouldn’t keep interrupting me when I’m speaking. It’s precious rude.”