“A man ’ud think yuh had more lives than a tom cat. Fork yore geldin’ and come down the pasture with me while I ketches me my Yaller Hammer pony. And git this here idee circulatin’ through yore system, son: We’re peaceful cow hands, me and you. This ain’t our scrap that’s goin’ on and the best we’ll git is the sharp end uh the prod-pole if we cuts in heavy.
“Leave the thinkin’ parts tuh yore pardner. If I hollers fer he’p, come a runnin’ but not lessen I hollers. We want tuh be all in one piece and enjoyin’ health and prosperity, as the sayin’ goes, when we presses our ponies fer Arizony this fall. Keep yore tongue between yore jaws and yore gun in the scabbard and we stand a fair tuh middlin’ show uh makin’ our home range, come Christmas. Go rearin’ and fightin’ yore head and like as not we’ll winter in a two by four hoosegow somewheres in Montana.”
Ten minutes later, Shorty watched his partner ride his fresh horse out the pole gate and along the trail Kipp had taken. A wide grin spread across the little cow puncher’s weather-tanned face.
“Yuh long-legged preacher,” he muttered good humoredly. “Yo’re plumb —— on givin’ forth wise words, ain’t yuh? Yuh give more danged advice than a Jersey cow gives milk. Then yuh rides away tuh hog all the fun whilst I hangs around the kitchen door like a dad-gummed blowfly and whittles sticks till yuh chooses tuh come back. Now I gotta go in there and lie tuh cover yore trail, dang yuh. We’ll see about swimmin’ that river, big ’un.”
“Grub pile!” called Hank from the kitchen door, thus putting an end to Shorty’s muttered tirade against the tyranny of his big partner.
A wicked look gleamed in his eyes as he made his way to the cabin.
“Where’s yore partner?” asked Ma Basset.
“Gone,” said Shorty, shaking his head sadly.
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Tuh town, I reckon, ma’am. I done the best I could tuh stop him but ’twan’t no use. Yuh see, Miz Basset, he’s one uh these here habitual drunks. Goes fer months without tetchin’ a drop. Then, sudden like, he jest busts out. He’ll swim rivers, climb pinnacles, go afoot if he has tuh, till he locates licker. Then he bogs down till he’s soaked up enough tuh kill ary ten men, forks his hoss and comes back. And the queer part of it is, he looks cold sober all the time. I bet a new hat yuh won’t be able tuh tell he’s had a drink when he gits back.”