"
"Oh, he wouldn't stop th' cows that way, Skinny; he was only
afoolin'," exclaimed Connors meekly.
"Foolin' yore gran'mother! That there bunch'll do anything if we
wasn't lookin'," hotly replied Skinny.
"That's shore nuff gospel, Thomp. They's sore fer mor'n one thing.
They got aplenty when Buck went on th' warpath, an they's hankerin' to
git square," remarked Johnny Nelson, stealing the pie, a rare treat,
of his neighbor when that unfortunate individual was not looking. He
had it halfway to his mouth when its former owner, Jimmy Price, a boy
of eighteen, turned his head and saw it going.
"Hi-yi! Yu clay-bank coyote, drap thet pie! Did yu ever see such a
son-of-a-gun fer pie?" he plaintively asked Red Connors, as he grabbed
a mighty handful of apples and crust. "Pie'll kill yu some day, yu
bob-tailed jack! I had an uncle that died onct. He et too much pie an'
he went an' turned green, an so'll yu if yu don't let it alone."
"Yu ought'r seed th' pie Johnny had down in Eagle Flat," murmured
Lanky Smith reminiscently. "She had feet that'd stop a stampede.
Johnny was shore loco about her. Swore she was the finest blossom that
ever growed." Here he choked and tears of laughter coursed down his
weather-beaten face as he pictured her. "She was a dainty Mexican,
about fifteen han's high an' about sixteen han's around. Johnny used
to chalk off when he hugged her, usen't yu, Johnny? One night when he
had got purty well around on th' second lap he run inter a feller jest
startin' out on his fust.
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