“You don't seem to know anything,” observed Mr. McLean. “What toy-shop did you escape from?”
“Wind him up! Wind him up!” said the proprietor, sticking his head in from the kitchen.
“Ah, what's the matter with this outfit?” screamed the boy, furiously. “Can't yu' leave a man eat? Can't yu' leave him be? You make me sick!” And he flounced out with his young boots.
All the while the company fed on unmoved. Presently one remarked,
“Who's hiring him?”
“The C. Y. outfit,” said another.
“Half-circle L.,” a third corrected.
“I seen one like him onced,” said the first, taking his hat from beneath his chair. “Up in the Black Hills he was. Eighteen seventy-nine. Gosh!” And he wandered out upon his business. One by one the others also silently dispersed.
Upon going out, Lin and I found the boy pacing up and down, eagerly in talk with Miss Buckner. She had made friends with him, and he was now smoothed down and deeply absorbed, being led by her to tell her about himself. But on Lin's approach his face clouded, and he made off for the corrals, displaying a sullen back, while I was presenting Mr. McLean to the lady.
Overtaken by his cow-puncher shyness, Lin was greeting her with ungainly ceremony, when she began at once, “You'll excuse me, but I just had to have my laugh.”