“Ignorance!” snorts Dirty. “If I didn’t know any more natural history than that I’d hang my head in shame, Wick. You tied him up, did yuh? Well, by golly you ort to find out which is the head end of a elephant. You tied him by the tail.”
“Well, I-I-I-I tut-tied him,” wails Wick. “Ends don’t mean nothin’ to me. They both hang down. The only danged way I can tell which is which is to give it some hay and see which end turns toward it. He didn’t kill either one of yuh, did he?”
“Don’t give Gunga Din any credit,” says I. “If that back door hadn’t been shut I’d be in Canada right now. Go back and make pets of them things, if you must, but spare me from havin’ anythin’ more to do with ’em.”
We helped Wick back into the stable, stole a bottle of horse liniment and went home to recuperate. Dirty walks like his rudder was cramped just a little, and I’m kinda reared back to take the strain off my shoulders, hips and ankles.
It was kinda late that evenin’ when me and Dirty limped up to the Mint Hall and found Piperock assembled. Magpie is on the platform, and the argument seems to be gettin’ warm. On the platform with him is Mrs. Wick Smith and Miss Jasmine Greenbaum. When she sees us, she hops off the platform, comes and leads me and Dirty up to the front of the room and asks us to sit down.
“These two gentlemen have offered to help me in this,” says she. “They have the interests of Piperock at heart. I know they are brave and full of courage, and for that reason I have selected them.”
“Brave and full of courage!” snorts Yuma Yates. “Full of rheumatism, from the way they walk.”
“I’m goin’ to remember most everythin’ I hear said here,” says Dirty. “That’s remark number one, Yuma.”
“My list shows number one for Yuma Yates,” says I.
Magpie hitches up his belt and moves to the edge of the platform, where he glares at me and Dirty Shirt.