“We can have all that. I’ll ride at the head of the pe-rade and——”
“That ain’t unanimous,” interrupts Scenery. “Why you any more than me, Hank? Next thing we know you’ll want to be Miss Columbus.”
“Hang on to yourselves,” advises Whittaker. “You fellers elects yourselves to everything—seems to me. A leading man in a pe-rade ought to dress the part, I reckon. When I lives in Great Falls I’m elected as a ornery member of a organization. It had something to do about woodcraft, and we dresses up like a plush hoss, when we meets. I still got my war-bonnet and pants left. Some son of a gun stole the coat. I still got my ax, too.”
“You still got the ax?” squeaks Scenery. “Wonderful! Go home and cut some wood. I think your fire’s out.”
“While you old spavs are fighting for honors, what’s the matter with considering me?” I asks. “You’re all so danged old and stove-up that you’d have to lead it in a lumber-wagon. Look at me, and step back in the ranks. I’m young, handsome——”
“Pause!” yelps Scenery. “Pause, Hen. It takes brains to lead a pe-rade.”
“Then let’s not quarrel,” says I. “We ain’t eligible. Let’s settle these little details later and in a place what ain’t so dry. It won’t be the Fourth of July until day after tomorrow, so let’s adjourn.”
They agrees. Scenery and Hank goes home, and I goes up to the bunk-house, where “Telescope” Tolliver and Muley are playing pitch.
“Hen, what has the committee decided to do?” askes Telescope.
I tells him what our plans are, so far, and while I’m telling in comes “Chuck” Warner, the prize liar of Yaller Rock County. Chuck punches cows with us for a living, and carries the greatest assortment of prevarications on earth as a side-line. I been with him so long that at times I shades the truth a little, too.