"There never was an oyster within a thousand miles of Wyoming, Taterleg. They wouldn't keep to ship that far, much less till you'd used 'em up."
"Cove oysters, Duke, cove oysters," corrected Taterleg gently. "You couldn't hire a cowman to eat any other kind, you couldn't put one of them slick fresh fellers down him with a pair of tongs."
"Well, I guess you know, old feller."
Taterleg fell into a reverie, from which he started presently with a vehement exclamation of profanity.
"If she's got bangs, I'll make her cut 'em off!" he said.
"Who cut 'em off?" Lambert asked, viewing this outburst of feeling in surprise.
"Nettie! I don't want no bangs around me to remind me of that snipe-legged Alta Wood. Bangs may be all right for fellers with music boxes in their watches, but they don't go with me no more."
"I didn't see Jedlick around the ranch up there; what do you suppose become of him?"
"Well, from what the boys told me, if he's still a-goin' like he was when they seen him last, he must be up around Medicine Hat by now."
"It was a sin the way you threw a scare into that man, Taterleg."