“Where there are broncos you can ride,” put in Dewey, with a sly wink at the object of this allusion.
“Wow!” cried Texas. “That’s so! I mos’ forgot ’bout that air bronco since Mark come. Whoop!”
“What bronco?” inquired Mark, curious to know what new excitement his wild friend had found.
Texas told him, and as a clincher held the paper up before his eyes.
“Thar ’tis,” said he. “You kin read it an’ see Smasher— I’ll smash him, doggone his boots—”
“Do Texas horses wear boots?” inquired Dewey, anxiously. “B’gee, we never go better than plain shoes up our way.”
“Look a-yere, Mark,” demanded Texas, scorning to notice Dewey’s interruption. “I was jes’ a-sayin’ ef you were hyer you’d go with me to that air circus an’ bust up the old fake place. Naow will you?”
“Of course I will,” responded Mark. “So will the rest, too, I guess. I’ve been penned up in that old hospital for an age, and I’m just dying for a lark.”
“But where’ll we get disguises?” inquired the matter-of-fact Parson.
“I guess one of the drum orderlies can buy us some,” laughed the other. “We ought to have some ’cits’ clothing handy, anyway, so that we can be ready for some fun any time.”