“What did he want?”
We turns and looks at Mary Jane, standing in the doorway.
“Aw-w, he’s a danged maul-headed prairie-dog, which has to chirp every time somebody lifts one of his dogies,” says Windy.
Mary Jane laughs and shakes her head.
“I don’t think I understand.”
“He means that this person ain’t such a much,” explains Hashknife, “and that he gets husky in the neck because somebody rustles his beef.”
“You might try saying it different,” says she, looking at me.
“Well,” says I, “this whippoorwill is about three jumps short of being half-witted and he——”
“No,” says Mary Jane, “that isn’t exactly clear either.”