The throat and lips of Mr. McLean moved, and a sulky sound came forth that I recognized to be meant for the word “War.” Then he rolled over so that his face was away from me, and put an arm over his eyes.
“I don't mean country in the sense of United States,” said I. “I mean this country here, and Bear Creek, and—well, the ranches southward for fifty miles, say. Important to this section.”
“Mosquitoes'll be due in about three weeks,” said Lin. “Yu' might leave a man rest till then.”
“I want your opinion,” said I.
“Oh, misery! Well, a raise in the price of steers.”
“No.”
“Yu' said yu' wanted my opinion,” said Lin. “Seems like yu' merely figure on givin' me yours.”
“Very well,” said I. “Very well, then.”
I took up a copy of the Cheyenne Sun. It was five weeks old, and I soon perceived that I had read it three weeks ago; but I read it again for some minutes now.
“I expect a railroad would be more important,” said Mr. McLean, persuasively, from the floor.