CHAPTER XLIII
A NEW HAT—A NEW TRAIL
The day before Pete left Sanborn he strolled over to the sheriff's office and returned the old and battered copy of "Robinson Crusoe," which he had finished reading the night previous. "I read her, clean through," asserted Pete, "but I'd never made the grade if you hadn't put me wise to that there dictionary. Gosh! I never knowed there was so many ornery words bedded down in that there book."
"What do you think of the story?" queried the sheriff.
"If that Robinson Crusoe guy had only had a hoss instead of a bunch of goats, he sure could have made them natives ramble. And he sure took a whole lot of time blamin' himself for his hard luck—always a-settin' back, kind o' waitin' for somethin'—instead of layin' out in the brush and poppin' at them niggers. He wa'n't any too handy at readin' a trail, neither. But he made the grade—and that there Friday was sure one white nigger."
"Want to tackle another story?" queried Owen, as he put the book back on the shelf.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd jest as soon read this one over ag'in. I was trailin' that old Crusoe hombre so clost I didn't git time to set up and take in the scenery."
In his eagerness to re-read the story Pete had forgotten about the wager. Owen's eyes twinkled as he studied Pete's face. "We had a bet—" said Owen.
"That's right! I plumb forgot about that. You said you bet me a new hat that I'd ask you for another book. Well—what you grinnin' at, anyhow? 'Cause you done stuck me for a new lid? Oh, I git you! You said another book, and I'm wantin' to read the same one over again. Shucks! I ain't goin' to fore-foot you jest because you rid into a loop layin' in the tall grass where neither of us seen it."
"I lose on a technicality. I ought to lose. Now if I had bet you a new hat that you would want to keep on reading instead of that you'd ask for another book—"