Slim, however, had chosen to ignore the manner of speech, and with a grin answered: "Ye-es, that's why they buried him."
Polly laughed in spite of herself. "What did he die of?" she asked.
As Slim was about to take a drink at the olla, he failed to hear her.
"Eh?" he grunted.
"What did he die of?" she repeated.
"Five aces," was the sober reply of the Sheriff, before he drained the gourd.
Polly put the broom back of the door, and was rearranging the articles on the table, before Slim could muster up enough courage to speak on the topic which was always uppermost in his mind when in her presence.
"Say, Miss Polly," he began.
"If you've anything to say to me, Slim Hoover, just say it—I can't be bothered to-day—all the fixin's and things," saucily advised the girl.
"Well, what I want to say is—" began the Sheriff.