“To see yuh handle that broom, Bantie, reminds me uh heap of uh fee-male person. You shore are finicky about yor floor.”
Bantie blushed through his tan and swept vigorously.
Magpie saw that he had riled Bantie so he continued:
“You shore ought to have uh pet around yore cabin. Uh feller gits uh heap uh comfort out of uh pet. Now, old man Sims down at th’ forks, has got uh litter uh gray kittens and I know he’d shore admire to give yuh one. Uh course yuh don’t want nothin’ bigger nor more fee-rocious than house cats. Wild animal pets are only fit fer——”
He had started to make a deprecatory gesture with his right hand, which had suddenly come into contact with fur. Also the fur moved. Magpie took one look and then swallowed his tobacco. A wildcat was sitting on the bunk beside him and two big, yellow eyes stared into his. Magpie knew wildcats—knew that no living animal could move more quickly. But if any wildcat had caught Magpie in the next ten seconds it would have set a new record for the species.
Bantie dropped his broom as Magpie went past and then leaned against the doorway and watched him slow down a hundred yards away and pull his gun as he whirled. The little gray kitten rubbed against Bantie’s leg and he picked it up and cuddled it to his face as he watched Magpie scratch his neck and then amble off up the trail.
To say that Magpie was astonished as he plodded off up that trail would be putting it mildly.
“I wonder if that was uh bob-cat?” he queried aloud. “Dang it all, my eyes ain’t what they used to be. Leavin’ my specs to home that away puts me plumb dim in th’ vision, but—huh, that shore looked like uh bob-cat—yes sir! But shucks, it ain’t possible! Bantie with uh bob-cat! No siree, it ain’t reasonable I tell yuh! Must ’a’ been my eyes I reckon.”
He went rumbling along the trail with his head down and nearly ran headlong into Tellurium.
“Whoa, yuh old goat!” yelled Tellurium. “What yuh tryin’ to do—butt yore way home?”