“Thought I smelled suthin’,” said Avery, with a shrewd glance at the teamster.
“Skunks is pecooliar things,” said Cameron, endeavoring to prolong the conversation.
“Thet’s what they be,” said Avery, turning toward David.
“Them ‘loungerees’ is pecooliar actin’ things, too, ain’t they?” said Cameron.
The old man rose to the occasion superbly, albeit not altogether familiar with the species of animal so called.
“Yes, they be,” he remarked decisively. “I et one onct and it liked to kill me. Reckon it hung too long afore it was biled.”
David had immediate recourse to the drink-dipper. The cough which followed sounded suspiciously like a strangled laugh to Cameron’s sensitive ears.
“Huh!” he exclaimed, with some degree of sarcasm; “sounds as if he’d et one hisself to-day.”
He sat down, filled his pipe and smoked, feeling that if he was not entitled to their confidence he was at least entitled to their society. Presently his pipe fell to the floor as his head nodded in slumber.
“Guess I’ll turn in, Hoss,” he remarked, recovering the pipe and yawning abysmally.