“Thanks, ol’-timer,” sez Mighty. “That’ll buy me one uh them things what yuh grind meat up in. Yuh see, Abe’s teeth ain’t what they used to be, and when he eats meat he gits them pains and he’s liable to bite or claw ——, I begs yore pardon, ma’am, out uh me.”
“Not appendicitis symptoms,” states th’ doc. “Does he have hallucinations?”
“No,” sez Mighty. “Leastwise I don’t reckon he has. He’s showed symptoms uh St. Vitus dance and th’ bellyache and has moulted most of his hair, but I reckon that ol’ age sneakin’ up on him makes him thataway more’n anythin’ else.”
“How old is he?” asks Mrs. Perfessor.
“Don’t know edzactly, ma’am. I killed his mother when he was comin’ uh year ol’ but I don’t remember what year that was. He’s had uh lot uh sickness, ma’am, and most all th’ hair’s rubbed off his belly, which uh course makes him look older than he really is. Sabe?”
Mebby she don’t sabe, but anyway, she don’t ask no more questions. She takes uh sixty hoss-power look at Mighty, and ambles right off up th’ trail. Th’ doc looks sorta surprised at Mighty, but th’ perfessor don’t pay no attention. He’s busy gloatin’ over that badger.
“Gracious,” sez he. “The young of the grizzly surely do mature young. Doctor, just look at those claws. Do they lose that stripe on the back like a young deer loses it’s spots?”
“Uh-huh,” sez Magpie. “All bears is striped when they’re born, except black ones and they’re purple”.
Me and Magpie has to pack that badger all th’ way over to our cabin. We tries to lead it, but that wasn’t a success. It starts all right, but th’ perfessor is in th’ road, figgerin’ in his note-book. That rope gits familiar with his long legs, and he’s some strung out when we gits ’em separated, but he don’t mind. He sets there on th’ ground and figgers in his note-book, while we untangles th’ rope off his feet, and never pays no attention a-tall.
When we gits home we ties th’ badger to uh tree. Me and Magpie figgers that our labors is over fer uh while, so we aims to take life easy fer uh spell. Th’ doc is busy shootin’ up th’ tin cans around camp, Mrs. Perfessor is croshayin’ what looks like uh pair uh ear-muffs fer uh blacktail deer, and th’ perfessor is studyin’ th’ actions of uh peeved badger, so me and Magpie goes down on th’ crick, where we got some bedrock stripped.