I said to Dirty Shirt—
“We shall most surely follow them and recover our property, shall we not?”
“Not,” answered Ike. I am leaving off the prefix “Mr.” as they rarely use it in conversation.
“But,” said I, “it is a plain case of theft, is it not?”
“Well,” replied Dirty Shirt, “you can call it anything from petty larceny to train robbery, professor, but I’d be —— if I ever was so fond of sheep that I’d sacrifice my skin in their interests.”
“Do you mean you are going to let them keep the sheep?” asked Middleton.
“——’s delight!” exclaimed Dirty Shirt. “You still talking sheep? Let’s go back to the rag shanty and scare up a feed.”
So back we went. They showed no worry over the loss of the sheep, and I am certain they must be of value. The chops alone would be worth— But why quote prices? They led us back to the tent, and then Dirty Shirt said:
“If you pelicans want to be regular shepherds you’ve got to learn how to cook. See what you can find in your own packs and then scare up a batch of biscuits.”
Our pack-luggage had been stacked in front of the tent, and as I walked over to investigate our provender Dirty Shirt added—