His accent on the last word irritated Bantie so much that he shrugged his thin shoulders and started off in the dark toward his cabin without replying.
“Hey!” yelled Tellurium. “What did yuh do with my wolf?”
“He’ll git back some time tomorrow!” shrilled Bantie. “That is, if he don’t lose m’ return trail.”
The next night Magpie and Tellurium ambled down to Bantie’s cabin, ostensibly to square things with Bantie but it is worthy of notice that they took their pets along. Bantie wasn’t home and the cabin was locked, so they went back to Tellurium’s cabin and played single-handed poker.
It was four days later that Bantie sat in front of his cabin, and the stoop was gone from his shoulders. He was having the time of his life watching a little gray kitten pull off stunts with an old newspaper.
“Ain’t he th’ little rascal?” he chuckled. “Gosh, he shore is some pet and that’s whatever. I’m shore pleased with his color—yes sir. Almost uh dead ringer fer—huh! That’s goin’ to be uh good joke if it works. It’s goin’ to re-quire some thinkin’. Twenty dollars rent! That’s uh heap uh—gosh! Here comes Magpie down th’ trail! Kitty, kitty, kitty—well, git in th’ house then. Doggone, I got to cache that cat before he gits here.”
Bantie was busy with his broom when Magpie leaned against the doorway with a broad grin.
“Hello, Bantie. When did yuh git back?”
“Yesterday afternoon. Come inside while I sweeps this dirt out.”
Magpie came in and sat down on the bunk.