I tears the cover off and looks her over. It says—
Will arrive your town this date meet me with a vehicle.
And she’s signed Frederick & Quincy.
I looks at my watch and decides on quick action.
“You set down here and rest your feet,” says I to Old Testament, “I’ll hitch up the buckboard, and go to town. I just got enough time to get there.”
That was some ride. Them broncs were as wild as deer, and we went to Paradise so fast that the dust didn’t settle for thirty minutes after I ties up at the station.
The train is late, so I goes over to Mike Pelly’s place, and washes the sheep-taste out of my throat. It takes quite a lot of liquid, and when I goes back to the station I’m sheep-proof.
The train pulls in and I spots my man. There’s quite a crowd at the station, but I knowed him the minute he got off, and it takes me about three steps to get where he’s standing. Being sheep-proof, I’m also polite, so I takes his valise away from him, and starts for the rig.
“Come on, Blackstone,” says I, “your carriage waits without.”
He starts with me, but he seems to complain a heap, so I stops and asks him whyfore the objections.