She cackled again, scoffing at his declaration.
“What’s the proof of it?” she demanded.
“I shall not try to present any proof, other than my word.”
“And if you’re the fake Buffler, yer word ain’t good furder’n a man could sling a steer by the tail. You ain’t the fake Buffler?”
“No, madam, I am not.”
“Why do ye call me madam, and how’d ye know I ever was married, to desarve that title? Simply because I’m oldish and have lost my good looks? You don’t know me?”
“I haven’t the honor.”
He touched his hat again, but a smile disturbed the gravity of his face.
“Well, I’m Pizen Jane, frum Cinnabar. Never heerd o’ me?”
“I never had the honor to——”