"Straight, Sun, salt and water is mighty healin'. You better ride over to the Concho and get fixed up."
"Reckon that ain't no dream, Hi. Got to see the boss, anyhow."
"Well, 'anyhow' is correc'. And, say, you want to see him first and tell him it's you. Your hoss is tied over there. Sinker fetched him in."
"Hoss? Oh, yes, hoss! My hoss! Uhuh!"
With this somewhat ambiguous string of ejaculations Sundown limped toward the pony. He turned when halfway there and called to Wingle. "The cattle business is fine, Hi, fine, but between you and me I reckon I'll invest in sheep. A fella is like to live longer."
Wingle stared gravely at the tall and tattered figure. He stared gravely, but inwardly he shook with laughter. "Say, Sun!" he managed to exclaim finally, "that there Nell Loring is a right fine gal, ain't she?"
"You bet!"
"And Jack ain't the worst…" Wingle spat and chewed ruminatively. "No, he ain't the worst," he asserted again.
"I dunno what that's got to do with gettin' drug sixteen mile," said Sundown. "But, anyhow, you're right."