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'Mollie Hines could make that Locksley Hall gent you was readin' from, or even the party who writes Watt's Hymns, go to the diskyard. An' then I repeats some forty of them stanzas, whereof that one I jest now recites is a speciment. "What does this pulpit gent say? He see I has him cinched, an' he's plumb mute.
"'I reckons I'm wrong, Dan, says Thompson, turnin' apol'getic. 'Let it all go to the diskyard. I'm that peevish I simply ain't fit to stay yere nor go anywhere else. I ain't been the same person since my wife runs cimmaron that time an' demands said sep'ration.
By second drink time only savages don't drink, a paternal gov'ment barrin' nosepaint on account of it makin' 'em too fitfully exyooberant by second drink time the second evenin' Bill lays down his hand pitches his hammer into the diskyard as it were an' when I crosses up with him, Bill's that abject he wears a necktie.
The country's so rollin', too, it's no trouble for 'em to hide. At last I quits an' throws my hand in the diskyard. Tom an' Jerry is shore departed an' I'm deeficient my two best mules. I hooks up the others, an' seein' it's down hill an' a easy trail I makes Tascosa an' refits. "I never crosses up on Tom an' Jerry in this yere life no more, but one day I learns their fate.
But as I says, I sees this Cherokee do it when the opp'sition is settin' in hard luck an' couldn't stand to lose. "How would he give his hand away? Throw it in the diskyard an' not play it none; jest nacherally let the gent who's needy that a-way rake in the chips on the low hand. Cherokee mebby does it this fashion so's he don't wound the feelin's of this yere victim of his gen'rosity.
Dave gives me a grin, shets one eye plenty cunnin', an' retorts: "Dan, you're envious; you wants that ornament yourse'f an' you're out to try an make me diskyard it in your favour. Sech schemes, Dan, can't make the landin'. Opals that a-way is as harmless as bull snakes.
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