“You—Bob. You hear that?” admonished The Worst Bad Man. “When you get to New Jerusalem, you send out to Dan-by first-off an' round up the best toilette money can buy. Remember that, Bob. Crack right along. Bill. What does the doc say next?”
“The First Bath—The first bath should not be administered until the baby is at least three days old——”
“Bill,” said The Worst Bad Man, looking solemnly at his companion, “if I had a sick tomcat I wouldn't send for Doc Meecham. Three days without a bath! That's all right when the boy's a grown-up an' ain't supposed to bathe between waterholes when he's in the desert, or every Saturday night when he's in town, but with new babies I'll lay you my silver spurs tis different. The doc's wrong, Bill. But come again.”
Thus encouraged, The Wounded Bad Man read;
“Immediately after birth the nurse should rub the entire body with olive oil, or, if that is not available, with some clean, pure grease or lard.”
The Wounded Bad Man closed the book, but kept his finger in to mark the place.
“It don't sound regular, Tom, I'll admit; but there's a bottle of olive oil in the tailbox, so it looks like Robert William Thomas was due for a greasin' up in accordance with the doctor's orders.”
The Worst Bad Man pondered. “Well, I ain't convinced nohow,” he said presently. “This godson o' ours is startin' life slippery enough with us for his godfathers.” He pondered a moment or two longer. “Still, it we follow the book it may save Robert from chafin' an' gettin' saddle galls on him. Hand over the ile, Bob, an' we'll slick the young feller up a mite. It's just the tenderness o' hell we don't have to use axle-grease!”
The Wounded Bad Man held the naked babe in his lap, across which he had spread the towel, and The Worst Bad Man applied the oil.
“Roll him over, Bill.”