"Let him do his own talkin', kid," said Siwash, cutting off the cowboy's explanation.
Siwash looked at the Duke shrewdly, his head cocked to one side like a robin listening for a worm.
"What outfit was you with before you started out sellin' them tooth-puller-can-opener machines, son?" he inquired.
"Outfit? What kind of an outfit?"
"Ranch, innercence; what range was you ridin' on?"
"I never rode any range, I'm sorry to say."
"Well, where in the name of mustard did you learn to ride?"
"I used to break range horses for five dollars a head at the Kansas City Stockyards. That was a good while ago; I'm all out of practice now."
"Yes, and I bet you can throw a rope, too."
"Nothing to speak of."