"I'm scart," says Curly. "Cayn't you bed me down in yo' barn?"
"You'll go whar yo' told," says McCalmont, "and stay put until yo're well enough to fight."
"If you're scared, Curly," says I, "these same ladies is due to have fits at the sight of yo' present costume. Now, if I could show them a case like you in the Bible they'd think it right natural, and all correct."
"Absalom," says Curly, "had long ha'r."
"So does Buffalo Bill, Texas Bob, and other old longhorns, but the same ain't lady robbers. Besides, yo' ha'r is short, and you're plumb unusual."
"I got a trunk full of female plunder," says McCalmont, "and it's right here in the buckboard, in case he needs to dress respectable."
"It's all tawn to rags," said Curly, "from that last b'ar hunt when I was treed by a grizzly. And the wig got stuck full of pine gum."
"These details of female dress and depawtment"—McCalmont was getting restive—"seems to me to be some frivolous. The question is, Do these yere ladies run much to tongue?"
"Wall, no; the fashionable society of Grave City has struck them reticent. Miss Blossom says she'd rather mix up with bears, and Miss Pansy she allows our crowd lacks tone. No, these ladies don't go henning around to cackle."
"That settles it," said McCalmont. "Now you, Jim, you go back and tell these boys to join the herders in front, and I'll be with you presently. It ain't decent, my boy, for you to behold what's going to happen in the way of costume. So you jest tell Curly good-bye, and we'll proceed with disguisin' her as a womern."