“Oh, I must haf a glass of vater, to take de powters. Vere can I get de glass?”
“Go to the saloon——”
“Is dere no oder veres?”
“You can go around the back of the house and get one at the kitchen.”
“Den dot is vere I shall go. Come, Bennie, I vould not alone go. Oh, Mister, Mister! please don’t do vit’ de Bennie like vot you do mit me. He is de betrothed of mein Dora vot vas stolen und I vish him to lif to hunt for her. Please gif me your vord.”
“I promise you,” said Shoshone, waiting for an introduction, in due form, to Bennie.
He liked the frank young face of the “betrothed” of the lost Dora. But the shoemaker had not learned the etiquette of the range yet, and, with several groans, he took Bennie’s arm and they went around to the kitchen door for the glass of water.
Shoshone had had his breakfast and so sat down upon an upturned bucket and lighted his companionable old pipe, and ruminated as he smoked. As he sat there, Loney came back, supposing he would find Mr. Goldberg, but as he was not at the watering-place the boy went to the tent and looked in, and then turned, frightened, as he saw it was empty.
“Hallo, youngster!” said Shoshone kindly.
“How do you do, Mister?” said Loney. “Did you see Mr. Goldberg—I mean Mr. Wild Bill? Which way did he go?”