“Come on down an’ have supper with us,” sez Horace. “You can see for yourself what the prospect for fresh meat is; so you can be sure of a welcome.”
“No, we can’t very well come this evenin’,” sez Badger-face.
“Why not?” sez Horace. “You look to me like a man who was gettin’ bilious for the want of a little sociability. Come on down an’ we’ll swap stories, an’ have a few drinks, an’ I’ll sing ya the best song you ever hearkened to.”
“No, we got to be goin’,” sez Badger-face; an’ he an’ the Greasers rode off while Horace chuckled under his breath as merry as a magpie.
“That’s what you call a bad man, is it?” sez he. “I tell you that feller’s a rank coward.”
“Would you have the nerve to pick up a horn-toad?” sez I.
“No,” sez he; “cause they’re poison.”
“They ain’t no more poison ’n a frog is,” I sez; “but most people thinks they are, an’ that is why strangers are afraid of ’em. Now, Badger-face ain’t no coward. He’s a shootin’ man; but he can’t make you out, an’ this is what makes him shy of ya.”
“Well,” sez Horace, “I’d rather be a free horn-toad than a mule in harness. Come on, let’s go eat.”
The next afternoon Horace went along to help bring in the bunch o’ cattle; an’ some one up on the hill took a shot at him. He couldn’t ride up the hill, so he hopped off the pony, an’ started up on foot. Mexican Slim was closest to him, an’ he started after; but the feller got away without leavin’ any trace. Horace was wonderful pleased about it, an’ strutted more than common.