As soon as I finished takin' care o' Starlight, I give Monody's mount a
look-over. The old bald-face was whipcord an' steel; but he looked
purty near ready to own up.
"Monody, confound you," I sez. "What the deuce did you hammer this old
skin over the road like this for?"
"That's my pony," he growled.
"Since when?"
"Since I bought him, that's since when."
"When did you buy him?"
"It ain't none o' your business when I bought him. I bought him the
mo'nin' you pulled out."
"What did you pay for him?"
"Are you goin' to talk about that ol' cayuse all night?" he snorts,
gettin' wrought up.
"I'm goin' to talk about him until I find out about him," sez I, "an'
you might as well come out of it an' tell what the' is to tell."
"I don't have to tell nothin' about him. He neveh belonged to you. Jim,
he owed me some money on my wages so I just took the pony for the
money. An' now I hope you're through pesterin' me."
"How much did he owe ya?" sez I.
"Now you gone about far enough with this!" yells Monody. "I don't know
how much he owed me, an' I don't care. I reckon he owed me more'n the
pony's worth, 'n if he didn't he can just pertend he raised my wages
last month."
"Why didn't you let him raise your wages a little more, an' bring
along a bunch o' five-year-olds too?" sez I, grinning. I was mighty
glad to see the old scamp, an' I knew he had drawed the worst end o'
the bargain; but I wanted him to understand that it was embarrassin' to
go again my wishes without my consent. He had the pot o' coffee just
ready to set on the rock where we was goin' to eat, an' all of a sudden
he straightened up an' shot a scowl into me. "Look here, Happy." sez
he, "I don't care a sky blue flap doodle for the whole Jim Jimison
outfit! I told you I was comin' along, an' I come. I tells you again
that I'm goin' wherever you go; but if you don't shet up about that
royally sequestered ol' ball faced camel, I'll dash this scaldin' hot
coffee--right on the ground!"
Well, I fell on my knees an' begged him to spare me, an' I kept it up
until he was gigglin' with laughter--he had a funny way o'
laughin'--an' then we sat on the stone an'--well, the' never was a
human mortal 'at was qualified to carry water for ol' Monody's cookin'.
"What's your news, Monody?" I sez, after I 'd satisfied myself that I
couldn't swaller another crumb.
"You're headin' for the Diamond Dot, ain't ya?" sez he.
"This is a corner o' the Diamond Dot range," sez I, lollin' back an'
puffin' slow an' comfortable at my pipe.
"The pony corral stands at the mouth of a little canon, don't it?"
"Yes," sez I.
"An' the cook house is to the right of it?"
"Yes," sez I.
"An' the ranch house is kind o' sprawly with--"
"Look here, Monody," sez I, interruptin', "this ain't no news. What are
you gettin' at?"
"You got friends there, ain't ya?" sez he.
"I got one friend anyhow," sez I, "but as long as you've insisted on
taggin' along after me, you'll see the place an' you'll see my friend;
though I somehow doubt if you'll be invited in for a meal."
"Is your friend a lady?" sez Monody.
"Oh, no," sez I, sarcastic, "she 's a two-year-old heifer. I wouldn't
think o' goin' this distance just to call on a lady."
"How old is she?" asked Monody.
"Now you look here, you old pest," sez I, "if you're just tryin' to get
even with me about the bald-faced roan, why cut it; but if you've got
anything to tell, why tell it, 'cause I'm gettin' sleepy. She'll be
eight years old to-morrow."
Old Monody shook with silent laughter for a moment. "A lady!" sez he.
Then he sobered an' sez, "Is it your child?"
I heaved a rock at him which he dodged, an' then I sez, "You wicked of
beast you, do I look old enough to have an eight-year-old daughter?"
"Sometimes you do an' sometimes you don't. You're one o' these fellers
'at ain't got no age o' their own, but just age up accordin' to what's
goin' on,"--an' ol' Monody stumbled on a bit o' truth when he said
this, an' it's still true.
"Well, what are you gettin' at?" sez I.
"The Diamond Dot is goin' to be raided to-night," sez he.