“If you’d had as much of this as I have you’d talk of something else,” he growled, after a half dozen attempts at conversation. Bill wasn’t much to look at, but he was a good driver and the stranger respected him for it.
Eventually this simple-minded horseman became curious about the slim young fellow sitting beside him.
“What you doing out here, anyhow—fishing or just rebuilding a lung?”
“Rebuilding two lungs,” answered the tourist.
“Well, this climate will just about put lungs into a coffee-can,” retorted Bill, with official loyalty to his country.
To his discerning eye “the tourist” now became “a lunger.” “Where do you live when you’re to home?”
“I knew it.”
“How did you know it?” The youth seemed really interested to know.
“I drove another fellow up here last fall that dealt out the same kind of brogue you do.”