“Yeah, I think so much of that animal that I wouldn’t even try to sell
him.”
“And that saddle, too!” said Slim, “Didja win that at a rodeo?”
“That,” said Bill seriously, “that was the saddle that George Washington
used when he crossed the Delaware. It’s a heirloom.”
Crane laughed loudly and slapped Slim on the back.
“I’ll match him agin’ yuh any old time, Slim. Bill H. Smith ain’t no
pandowdy puncher. He’s hired to help yuh run the legs off our cows;
_sabe_? Be good to him--cause I want yuh to keep your health, Slim.”
“My ----, yuh talk like I wasn’t kind to everybody!”
Slim seemed aggrieved to think that Crane would even question his sweet
disposition.
“I never seen yuh bitin’ the legs off yaller-jackets nor ticklin’ the
teeth of a rattler--if that’s what yuh mean, Slim. You show Smith where
to lean his horse, will yuh? I’ll give yuh some blankets for that other
bunk, and Smith can fill the tick with fresh straw.”
Crane went to the ranch-house, while Slim led Bill down to the stable
and pointed out an empty stall. As they came outside Slim squinted at
Bill and said:
“Dog-gone it, yore voice reminds me of somebody I’ve heard talkin’. I
dunno who it was, but it’s familiar.”
“Prob’ly that other Smith you knowed, Slim.”