Wong Lee called them to supper, but the two girls did not come to the table.
“Slim, you raised ⸺ with yore remarks,” whispered Honey.
“What do yuh mean?”
“Ruined the girls’ appetites.”
“Pshaw, I’m sorry about that.”
They ate silently for several minutes, and then Slim laid down his knife and fork.
“I found somethin’ funny today,” he said. “I was ridin’ down a coulee, kinda southeast of the Lazy B, and I finds a dead horse. Plenty buzzards feedin’. But the funny part of it is this: That horse has been skinned. Yessir, it shore had. I looked it all over and there ain’t a sign of skin on it anywhere. And it kinda looked to me as though somebody had pulled the shoes off it, too. Anyway, it never traveled far after the shoes was taken off.”
“Somebody needed horse-hide,” observed Honey, helping himself to more food.
“Yeah, I s’pose they did,” agreed Slim, resuming his meal. “It ain’t a common thing for to skin a dead horse. It ain’t been dead a ⸺ of a long time. I didn’t smell—”
“Hey!” snorted Honey. “What the ⸺ do yuh think this is? We’re eatin’ a meal, Slim.”