"I knows him, then. I used to know Frenchy, too. Are they comin' up
here?"
"Yes," responded Hopalong, struggling with another can while waiting
for the fire to catch up. "Better have some grub with me-don't like to
eat alone," invited the cowboy, the reaction of his late rage swinging
him to the other extreme.
When their tobacco had got well started at the close of the meal and
content had taken possession of them Hopalong laughed quietly and
finally spoke:
"Did yu ever know Aristotle Smith when yu was up in Montana?"
"Did I! Well, me an' Aristotle prospected all through that country
till he got so locoed I had to watch him fer fear he'd blow us both
up. He greased th' fryin' pan with dynamite one night, an' we shore
had to eat jerked meat an' canned stuff all th' rest of that trip.
What made yu ask? Is he comin' up too?"
"No, I reckons not. Jimmy, th' bartender, said that he cashed in up
at Laramie. Wasn't he th' cuss that built that boat out there on th'
Arizona desert because he was scared that a flood might come? Th' sun
shore warped that punt till it wasn't even good for a hencoop."
"Nope. That was Sister-Annie Tompkins. He was purty near as bad as
Aristotle, though. He roped a puma up on th' Sacramentos, an' didn't
punch no more fer three weeks. Well, here comes my pardner an' I
reckons I'll amble right along.
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