"You bet!" says I, f'r he seemed to be gettin' wound up an' cast in it, "that's the exact situation!"
"Would be dissatisfaction," he went on, "if cattle of the type which in the great markets is considered best, were furnished here. And I have great confidence in his judgment."
"So've I," I says. "He's one of the judgmentiousest fellers you ever see."
"So let that phase of the question pass," says he, "for the present. But there's a clause in this contract—"
"Don't let that worry you," says I. "There's claws in all of 'em if you look close."
He never cracked a smile, but unfolded it, and went on.
"Here's a clause," says he, "calling for a hundred and fifty cows with calves at foot, for the dairy herd, I presume."
"Cavvs at what?" says I.
"At foot," says he, p'intin' at a spot along toward the bottom. "Right there!"
"It's impossible!" says I. "They don't wear 'em that way."