“‘Good shooting for old man!’ says Rip. ‘Now you rest. Bimeby we have some more fun.’
“You should have seen Falk’s face as he sat there resting, with the pleasant future in his mind. He wasn’t happy, and he showed it. As soon as he got his wind he tried to bribe Rip, but it didn’t go. He promised him money and ponies and whisky and tobacco, and everything under the sun. Rip simply shook his head. ‘Don’t want!’ says he. ‘Having plenty good time now. Don’t talk any more. Want think what do next.’
“So there they sat, and whenever Rip looked at a place, Falk, he looked too, for he had a large interest in the matter, and it was pretty medium hard to figure out what was passing through Rip’s head.
“There was a mud-puddle with about six inches of water and six foot of mud at the end of the pot-hole. Rip took that in very earnest.
“‘Hunh,’ says he, ‘you rested now!’
“‘No, I ain’t!’ cries Falk, with the sweat starting out all over him. ‘I ain’t rested a little bit. Now, just wait a minute—honest, I’m all played out!’
“‘No ask question—tell you about it. I say rested, you rested,’ answers Rip, in a tone of voice that wasn’t to be argued with. Falk knuckled. ‘For God’s sake! What’s it going to be now?’ he asked.
“‘You fish,’ says Rip. ‘Plenty dam big fat fish, you!’ He pointed to the puddle. ‘Now swim!’
“I may have mentioned that Falk was stuck on his appearance? Well, he was—powerful. So when it came to wallowing around in a mud-puddle with his brand new hunting clothes on, he beefed for fair. Moses! How he cussed!
“Then old Rip raised the rifle again, and there was a bad light in his old eyes. I can’t give you no idea of the satisfaction he expressed as he simply repeated the one word, ‘swim!’