“Shore. They act awful queer, them hosses,” replied. Wilson. “They're afraid of somethin'.”
“A-huh! Silvertip mebbe,” muttered Anson. “Jim, You jest keep watch of them hosses. We'd be done if some tarnal varmint stampeded them.”
“Reckon I'm elected to do all the work now,” complained Wilson, “while you card-sharps cheat each other. Rustle the hosses—an' water an' fire-wood. Cook an' wash. Hey?”
“No one I ever seen can do them camp tricks any better 'n Jim Wilson,” replied Anson.
“Jim, you're a lady's man an' thar's our pretty hoodoo over thar to feed an' amoose,” remarked Shady Jones, with a smile that disarmed his speech.
The outlaws guffawed.
“Git out, Jim, you're breakin' up the game,” said Moze, who appeared loser.
“Wal, thet gurl would starve if it wasn't fer me,” replied Wilson, genially, and he walked over toward her, beginning to address her, quite loudly, as he approached. “Wal, miss, I'm elected cook an' I'd shore like to heah what you fancy fer dinner.”
The outlaws heard, for they guffawed again. “Haw! Haw! if Jim ain't funny!” exclaimed Anson.
The girl looked up amazed. Wilson was winking at her, and when he got near he began to speak rapidly and low.