"'Aoh,' he says, 'I do 'ope ye 'aven't 'urt me buffalao! They're dillikit creachures, mytes. In the old, 'appy dyes—' he has to cry in th' caraboo's ear before he can take his drink.
"Don't ast me how we spent th' rest of the afternoon. Ast th' caraboo; he was boss. We couldn't steer him none to speak of, but we could start him goin'. He stopped himself. Always in front of a s'loon, too. I'd like to see th' guy that owned him.
"An' ev'ry time he stopped, th' mayreener would wake up an' mix a tamarin' cocktail an' have a weep. His mem'ry was workin' fine again. An' so we follered th' trail of that intemp'rate caraboo through all th' back streets of Maniller, wanderin' on fr'm one low haunt of vice to another till the houses moved back where they belonged again, an' th' sun got nice and hot and shiny, and even th' Old Man didn't seem to matter—much—an' we went to sleep on th' cart, still wanderin'.
"When I woke up, Sly was gone, but Terry and th' mayreener was still poundin' their ears, and th' caraboo was still walkin', quiet, like he was loafin' home with his dinner-pail and pipe after a hard day's work, along a road between some rice-paddies. Things looked new to me and I set up and took a look. We was lost! Th' sun was settin' 'way over across th' paddies, and there warn't no Maniller in sight, nor nothin' but just th' paddies and th' road—and us. And I warn't sure whether it was yestidday or to-morrer! I felt so lonesome I woke Terry up.
"We set lookin' round a spell, and things begun to come back to us. 'Old Ma cert'nly hooked th'm in this time,' I says. 'Th' Old Man's heart is broke now, all right. Did ye spot th' look in his eye when he reco'nized us? That spelt G.C.M. to me.'
"'Th' carrermatter was just an axxi—' Terry stops short. 'I donno,' he says, 'but what it would be safer to desert.'
"'Maybe we've deserted a'ready,' I says. 'Lord knows how long we've overstayed our leave. I feel like I'd slep' a month.'
"'I've got a head, too,' says Terry. 'It was them tamarin' cocktails done it. Swelp me if I ever drink another drink.'
"That hits th' mayreener. 'Lead me to it, mytes,' he says, sleepy. 'Me legs ayn't what they ware, but lead me to it.'
"'That's what done it,' I says to Terry.