“That is as may be, Dirty.”
Magpie fingers his mustache, and nods.
“Well,” says I, “me and Dirty hankers for home, so I reckon we might as well drift along, Magpie.”
“No,” says he, sad-like. “You ain’t going no place, Ike. You’re arrived. Do you reckon I deputized you for fun?”
“Sheep,” pronounces Dirty, “don’t mean nothing at all to me. I sure am contemptuous of all things pertaining to wool.”
“Me, I votes against anything that blats,” says I.
“I don’t love ’em!” snaps Magpie. “Don’t see me packing no sheep-dip to alleviate their sufferings, do you?”
We don’t seem to, so we all sets there, humped over in the sun. After while Magpie clears his throat.
“‘Alphabetical’ Allen and ‘Scenery’ Sims own three thousand woollies,” says he. “Scenery was a silent pardner, being as he’s a cow-man, which hates sheep. Alphy gets Scenery to unhook a thousand dollars to buy some fancy stock. Sabe? Well, Alphy bought ’em—red, white and blue ones, in stacks, the same of which ain’t productive none to speak about.
“Scenery chides Alphy to the extent that Alphy gets disgruntled and wishes to separate the herd, fifty-fifty, without considering the thousand he lost over the green cloth. Alphy contends that him and Scenery has agreed to suffer gains and losses together, and furthermore that he lost a lot of his own money at the same sitting, the same of which makes them feller sufferers.