“Howdy, Bantie,” greeted Tellurium, with a wide-mouthed grin. “As uh particular feller you shore got ’em all skinned. Washin’ overalls! What’s th’ use uh that? Say, I’ll bet you takes uh bath too when nobody ain’t lookin’. Haw! Haw! I knowed uh feller oncet who used to take uh bath twice uh month regular. Dang near rubbed all th’ skin off hisself. You ought to git uh buckskin shirt like mine, Bantie. Them skin shirts keep yuh from gittin’ dirty—sort a fit so tight th’ dirt can’t git in, sabe?”
Bantie grinned and dried his hands.
“Go inside, Tellurium, and sit down while I gits some fresh water. I drinks uh lot uh water this hot weather.”
“Un-ha, I reckon yuh would,” replied Tellurium, as Bantie took the pail and started for the creek. “Yes sir, I wouldn’t put it uh bit past yuh—drinkin’ lots uh water.”
It was probably two minutes later when Bantie came back whistling with his pail of water and entered the cabin.
“This old Sleepin’ Creek shore produces th’ fine water,” he remarked but there was no response—the cabin was empty.
He walked to the door and looked around but there was no sign of Tellurium.
“That’s danged funny!” he exclaimed aloud. “Where in thunder is Tellurium?” He went outside and walked around the cabin and then came in and looked under the bunk.
“Well, I’ll be uh——”
He gasped as he pulled an object from under the bunk and held it up to the light. It was a battered old sombrero and in the crown was punched the initials, T. W.