“Ba-a-a-a?” queried a skinny cowboy seriously, looking up at Skeeter.
“Yea-a-a-a-ah,” said Skeeter just as seriously.
The skinny one colored slightly under his tan, as his lips quivered in another question.
“Maa-a-a-a-a?”
“Naa-a-a-a-a-a-a,” bleated Skeeter seriously.
One of the cowboys laughed nervously, but the bleating one’s eyes did not waver from Skeeter’s face.
“You think you’re—smart, don’t yuh?” he asked.
“Smart enough t’ talk yore language,” said Skeeter.
The cowboy’s hand jerked nervously along his thigh, but Skeeter did not move. His eyes narrowed, slightly, and he nodded slowly.
“Hop to it, pardner. I don’t know who yuh are, but I ain’t lookin’ for no cinch.”