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I'd a-told him before when you met me that day on the range, only I didn't want his honest hands smutted up with such as you. He's had his killin's before but they was always in fair-an'-open. You he'd give no quarter if he knew what you ben askin' me." The man's eyes narrowed evilly. They became calculating. "Tell him," he said. "Eh?" "Tell him."
Presently our frying-pans sputtered and the huge coffee-pot began to get up steam. "Waal, who dreamt him a good dream?" "I did," affirmed the writer. "I dreamt that I had an old colored woman by the throat and was choking dollars out of her mouth " "Good la!" exclaimed four men in chorus; "you hadn't orter a-told." "Why? Wasn't that a lovely dream?"
'And what colour mid her hair be? I axed him arter a bit, when he'd a-told me everythink else he could call to mind. 'I s'pose her hair be fair? 'I s'pose so, says he, lookin' a bit queer.
He got the `wet' jest as good as I can, an', if he drawed the `ye-ar' out a little, still any blockhead could a-told what he was sayin', an' in a voice pretty an' clear as a bell. Then he got love-sick, an' begged for comp'ny until he broke me all up. An' if I'd a-been a hen redbird I wouldn't a-been so long comin'. Had me pulverized in less'n no time!
But they had not thought it their place to talk about such things, and I suspect that in their hearts they did not more than half believe them. Old Beale said "Why didn't you ask me? I could a-told you where they was. Only I shouldn't a done fear you'd break your precious necks."
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