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We found them steers in Ben Nyland's corral some of them marked with Ben's brand the Star blottin' out the Double A. An' Miss Bransford admits the steers are hers. They ain't nothin' more to be said." "Yes, there is, Dale," said Miss Bransford. "It is quite evident there has been a mistake made. I am willing to believe Peggy Nyland when she says Ben was asleep in the cabin all night with her.
I always suspicioned he was built out with pneumatic pads, and blew himself up in the mornin' before he buttoned on the four-inch collar that kept his chin up; but I did'nt guess he had a rubber backbone. It was a case of fush with Piddie. He was all in. What I could see of his face had about as much color to it as a sheet of blottin' paper. Layin' on the floor was a map of the whole disaster.
I was in there just now fillin' up his ink-stand and, by crimus, I let a great big gob of ink come down ker-souse right in the middle of the nice, clean blottin' paper in front of him. I held my breath, cal'latin' to catch what Stephen Peter used to say he caught when he went fishin' Sundays. Stevey said he generally caught cold when he went and always caught the Old Harry when he got back.
Howsum, mebbe ther' wus reason. Old Joe, he wus the daddy o' the lot. Jim Marlin used to say as Joe most gener'ly used a black lead when he writ his letters; didn't fancy wastin' ink. Mebbe that's kind o' zaggerated, but I guess he wus the next thing to a fact'ry o' blottin' paper, sure.
He'd roped an' hog-tied a Circle L cow an' was blottin' our brand out." "What happened?" Lawler's lips were set in grim lines. "Nothin' followin' your orders regardin' the cuss. Davies an' Harris let him go after warnin' him. Somethin' ought to be done.
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