Sailor was friendly enough, and even intimated to Whispering that these two punchers never came from any mail-order house, which was quite a lot for Sailor to say about anybody.
After supper Len decided to ride to Lobo Wells with them. They were out of tobacco at the ranch and there were a few other small purchases to be made. Nan shook hands with them and asked them to come back soon. After they had ridden away with Len, Nan said to Whispering:
“I like those two men, Whispering. I think the tall one has the cleverest eyes I have ever seen.”
“Don’t get fooled on no cowpuncher,” advised Sailor. “Clear eyes ain’t no bay-rom-eter on his conscience. Most honest man I ever knowed was plumb cross-eyed and had a sty on one of ’em.”
“Yore idea of honesty,” said Whispering. “I was kinda impressed by this tall one m’self.”
“Shore yuh would; didn’t he brag about yore biscuits?”
“I dunno,” Whispering shook his head sadly. “Sometimes I look at you, Sailor—and wonder. To begin with, yore parents must ’a’ been easy-goin’ folks, or they’d ’a’ strangled yuh early in life. To think of a man at yore advanced age havin’ lived all this time!”
“Advanced age!” snorted Sailor. “My gosh, to hear you talk you’d think I was sixty-five.”
“To hear you talk, I’d think yuh was a hundred, Sailor.”
“Some day,” said Sailor ominously, “I’m goin’ to take you out and whip yuh, Whisperin’.”