The cowboy lounged in, very much at his ease. Roberts had been embarrassed before Ramona Wadley that morning, but he was not in the least self-conscious now. In the course of a short and turbid life he had looked too many tough characters in the eye to let any mere man disturb his poise.
"Do you spell scoundrel with a k?" the Ranger chief fired abruptly at him.
"Nary a k, Captain. I spell it b-a-d m-a-n."
"H'mp!" snorted the little man. "Ain't you got no education? A man's got to use a syllogism oncet in a while, I reckon."
"Mebbeso. What kind of a gun is it?" drawled Jack Roberts.
"A syllogism is a word meanin' the same as another word, like as if I was to say caballo for horse or six-shooter for revolver."
"I see—or tough guy for Texas ranger."
"Or durn fool for Jack Roberts," countered Ellison promptly.
"Now you're shoutin', Cap. Stomp on me proper. I certainly need to be curried."
Again the Ranger snorted. "H'mp! Been scarin' any more young ladies to death?"