"Well, it ain't for me to tell you which way to head in. You know what you're doing. You've got what some folks call Character, and plenty of it. But you're wearin' a reputation that don't fit."
"Same as clothes, eh?"—and Pete grinned.
"Yes. And you can change them—if you want to change 'em."
"But that there character part stays jest the same, eh?"
"Yes. You can't change that."
"Don't know as I want to. But I'm sure goin' to git into my other clothes, and take the trail over the hill that you was talkin' about."
"There are six ways to travel from here,"—and the sheriff's eyes twinkled.
"Six? Now I figured about four."
"Six. When it comes to direction, the old Hopis had us beat by a couple of trails. They figured east, west, north, and south, straight down and straight up."
"I git you, Jim. Well, minin' never did interest me none—and as for flyin', I sure been popped as high as I want to go. I reckon I'll jest let my hoss have his head. I reckon him and me has got about the same idee of what looks good."