“Ther’ was a woman,” corrected the irrepressible Sandy. “That’s dead sure. They got busy on one of the man’s ribs an’ made her. Ain’t that so, Toby?”
He turned to the squat figure beside him for corroboration, but Sunny took up the matter from across the semicircle.
“You’re a wise guy,” he exclaimed scornfully. “Can’t you kep from buttin’ in? Say, I’d hate to know sech a heap as you.”
Just for an instant Wild Bill turned his sharp eyes on his companions.
“Shut up you’se all,” he cried. And promptly Scipio was allowed to continue his story.
“Now, ’bout that garden,” he said thoughtfully. “Y’see, God told that feller he wasn’t to pick no fruit. Y’see, I guess it was needed fer cannin’ or preservin’. Maybe it was needed for makin’ elegant candy. I don’t know rightly––”
“You’re talkin’ foolish,” exclaimed Sandy, jumping up excitedly. “Cannin’?” he cried scornfully. “They didn’t can fruit them days.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Scipio apologetically.
“I know I am,” snorted Sandy.
“Then shut up,” cried Bill, without turning his head.