“He’s not buffaloed a little bit,” I returned.
“Ain’t he goin’ to do nothin’?”
“I don’t know what he’ll do.”
Scipio rode for a while, thinking it over. “If I had a wife,” he said, “and she got to thinkin’ she was my mother, I’d take a dally with her.” His meaning was not clear; but he made it so: “I’d take her—well, not on my knee, but acrost it.”
This I doubted, but said nothing. By and by we were passing the Sedlaw Ranch and Mrs. Sedlaw came running out rather hastily—and began speaking before she reached the gate.
“Oh, howdy-do?” said she; and she stood looking at me.
“Isn’t it perfect weather?” said I.
“Yes, indeed. And so you’re going hunting?”
“Yes. Want to come?”
“Why, wouldn’t that be nice! I thought Jimsy and May might be going with you.”