“Thanks, but I never chaw, pardner.”
“Then don’t never learn. I gotta own up though, that there’s nothin’ quite so plumb downright soothin’ as a man-size hunk uh plug at a time like this. It’s as intoxicatin’ as a shot uh tea is to a ol’ maid school-marm. Take the lead, pard. I’m follerin’ clost behind. The sooner yuh starts, the better. These dad-gummed mosquiters is shore a-eatin’ off me fierce.”
Pete in the lead rode out on a sand bar and his horse waded out into the stream. The swift-flowing water swirled and eddied about the animal’s legs.
“That high peak yonder, Shorty,” he called softly as his horse hit swimming water. “Right yuh are, Peter.”
No further word was spoken. Shorty set his jaws as the swift current swept his horse downstream. Easily, he slipped from the saddle and with a hand holding to his horse’s mane, swam alongside. The water was cool enough to freshen his tired nerves. He grinned to himself and jerked his hat down on his head with his free hand. Ahead of him he could see Pete and his horse. Both horses swam high in the water.
Suddenly, like a bobbing cork pulled by a string, Pete and his mount were sucked beneath the surface.
“Undercurrent,” muttered Shorty as he filled his lungs with a deep breath of air.
Then he and his horse went under as if drawn by an invisible hand. In reality but a moment, yet it seemed an hour to the cowpuncher, and they again came to the top.
“All right?” called a voice from ahead.
“Settin’ purty,” he called back.