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And just between me and you, Al, any more night-ridin' that's done in this outfit ain't going to be done on cayuses that can be told a mile off on a dark night!" "You're durn tootin', dad." Al grinned while he moistened the edge of his rolled cigarette.
Mebby he'll git into the habit, and you kin ketch 'im at it." "I aim to lay low, all right. And I aim to come up a-shootin' if the " "Yore dead right, Bill. Night-ridin' 's bad enough when a feller rides his own hawse. It'd need some darn smooth explainin' then. But when a man takes an' saddles up another feller's hawse " "I kin see his objeck in that," Bill said.
"That's funny," said Stover. "Music soothes me, no matter how bad it is. Last night when we come back from the Centipede Mr. Fresno was singin' Dearie, but I dozed right off in the middle of it. An' it's the same way with cattle. They like it. It's part of a man's duty when he's night-ridin' a herd to pizen the atmosphere with melody." "What I mean to say is this," Fresno hastened to explain.
"Or cowboys," suggested Bartley. "Night-ridin' ain't so popular out here." Bartley turned over and fell asleep. It seemed but a moment later that he was wide awake and Cheyenne was standing over him. It was daylight. "They got our hosses," said Cheyenne. "Who?" "I dunno." "What? Our horses? Great Scott, how far is it to Senator Brown's ranch?" "About twenty-five miles, by road.
But flaxseed work so good I doan be studyin night-ridin witches no more." "Parson" was born November 18, 1850 in Macon, Georgia, at a place called Tatum Square, where slaves were held, housed and sold. Besides "Parson," two other slave-children, Ed Jones who now lives in Sparta, Georgia, and George Bailey were born in Tatum Square that night.
Willie cried, in shocked accents. "I believe you're right, but" Stover meditated briefly before announcing with determination "we'll do a little night-ridin' ourselves. Willie, you watch this young feller daytimes, and the rest of us'll take turns at night. An' don't lose sight of the fat man, neither he might carry notes. If you don't like the looks of things you know what cards to draw."
"Lordy gracious!" he chuckled. "If you was to get a leg over a bronc', and the bronc' should find it out Say, I've got a li'l' blue horse out on my place in the Antelopes that'd plumb give his ears to have you try it; he shore would. You take my advice, and don't you go huntin' a job night-ridin' in the greasewood hills. Don't you do it!"
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