“They can’t all lead the pe-rade, that’s a cinch,” states Chuck. “I seen a pe-rade down to New York one time that——”
“You never was in New York,” states Telescope.
“I was born there,” declares Chuck, wiggling his ears.
“In Pima County, Arizona,” says Telescope. “I know when, too, Chuck.”
“Dates don’t count, Telescope. I said I was born in New York, and it’s my business if I wants to stick to my statement. Now, Telescope, if you said you was born in a teepee on a Digger reservation I wouldn’t argue with you for a minute. I’d take it as Gospel. A feller has a right to a birthplace, and I takes New York.”
That argument shows Chuck Warner in his native state. He’s got a face like a bronc, shortest legs on earth, and can wiggle his ears like a burro. The only time he can’t look yuh square in the eye is when he’s telling the truth.
“Yuh ought to get somebody with a little style to lead that pe-rade, Hen,” opines Muley.
“Might get ‘Pole Cat’ Perkins or ‘Harelip’ Hansen,” laughs Telescope. “Have Harelip ride one of his goats, and have Pole Cat walk slow behind him, leading a skunk. Have the goat wear the old man’s striped pants, and put Scenery’s hat on the skunk.”
“You fellers ought to be on the committee,” says I, sarcastic-like. “Yuh might get up your own pe-rade.”
“That’s a good scheme,” agrees Chuck. “We’ll form a offensive and defensive alliance.”