“Ya-a-a-a-ah!” he whoops, waving his long arms like a swarm of bees was after him. “Telescope Tolliver, you’re a liar if you think it! Marry that fat, forty-dollar fool! Buy my herd! Say, he ain’t never had money enough to buy a wool sock! Ya-a-a-a-ah! You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Ya-a-a-ah!” mimics Chuck, wiggling his ears. “Zebbie, you’re learning. Now the chorus—ba-a-a-a-a-ah!”
Zeb’s feelings can’t stand no more, so he turns around like a man with a sore throat, and goes back toward town stiff-legged like a bear with a peeve on.
“Zeb loves you fellers,” laughs Johnny. “I heard him say this morning that there’s just five things he hates. One is a rattlesnake and the other four draws a salary from Whittaker. What’s he sore at you fellers for? Has the sheep affected his brain?”
“Such a theory is absurd, Johnny,” says I. “It can’t be proved, ’cause nobody with brains ever mixes up with sheep. You can’t corrupt a coyote.”
A little later on me and Muley are setting on the fence, when Telescope climbs up beside us and talks to Muley like a father.
“You realize what this here marriage stuff means, Muley?” he asks. “You sure you ain’t just sick like a calf for it’s maw?”
“I know my own heart, liver and lights, Telescope,” replies Muley.
“Really love her with all your heart and soul, eh? Say, I’ll bet you’d turn her down cold if it was to your advantage.”
“You dang well know I wouldn’t!”