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Jabez said that as far as he was concerned, he preferred to have his fences mounted on hoss-back, 'cause they was easiest moved, an' we didn't have a foot o' wire on the place. I knew that no one would ever think o' me ridin' fence, so I just up an' spoke for the job. The foreman, Hank Midders was his name, didn't know me an' he was suspicious of me bein' on foot. "Can you ride?" sez he.
"Happy?" sez Hank Midders, "Happy what?" "Happy Hawkins," sez Bill. "Haven't you never heard o' Happy Hawkins?" "Happy Hawkins is down in the Texas-Pan Handle," sez I, in a matter-o'-fact voice. "Don't forget that, Bill." "Surest thing there is," sez Bill, winkin'. "I seen him get on the train myself." "When will supper be ready, Frenchy?"
Then I went over an' sat down by Hank Midders. "Did you get your fence-rider yet?" sez I. "No, I ain't got him yet, but I got two days to look for him in," he sez. Just then who should come in but the same old Diamond Dot hand who had beat me out of the pony. "Well, sign my name! If there ain't Happy Hawkins!" sez he, rushin' over an' shakin' my hand, "Still in business, Happy?" sez he.
I knew they'd all want to ask a few questions, so I went outside an' walked down the street. I couldn't make up my mind what to do, an' I wanted that fence-ridin' job more than ever. When T turned around to come back, I see Hank Midders walkin' toward me. "So you're Happy Hawkins?" sez he. "Well, that's what some folks call me," sez I.
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