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"I thought some fust, an' then I thinks what's ther odds? Thar's plenty o' hosses in camp, an' it'll probably save ther feller's life ter let him hev ther pony, what ain't none out o' ther common, so I says, 'It's a go, pard. I clumb down an' we changed saddles, an' he handed over ther pack o' cigareets an' we went our ways." "Yer shore is a kind-hearted man." "I ain't, neither.
"We hed a chuck wagon with us filled with flour, salt sowbelly an' saleratus, with some coffee an' a few pounds o' fine terbaccer fer makin' cigareets.
"One or the other," admitted Bannister. "Are y'u in on this thing?" "I surely am. Y'u're the best man I've met up with in a month of Sundays, seh. Y'u ain't got but one fault; and that is y'u don't smoke cigareets. Feed yourself about a dozen a day and y'u won't have a blamed trouble left. Match, seh?"
"I traded a Waterbury watch fer it, an' ther feller what made ther trade throwed in a pack o' cigareets." "Oh!" "Anything else ye'd like ter know?" "Well, seein' ez yer so communicative, I'd like ter hev yer tell me how fur it's ter Yeller Fork." "Betwixt grub." "Come ergin." "Ez fur ez yer kin ride betwixt 'arly breakfast an' dinner." "Well, I'm obleegin' ter yer. I reckon we'll be hikin'."
"Them cigareets whut thishere Noble Dills smoke whiles he settin' out on the front po'che callin' on you' Aunt Julia. You' grampaw mighty funny man about smellin'! You know's well's I do he don't even like the smell o' violet. Well, ma'am, if he can't stan' violet, how in the name o' misery he goin' stan' the smell nem cigareets thishere Dills smoke? I can't hardly stan' 'em myse'f.
They start out down th' street, loaded up with obscenthe an' cigareets, pavin' blocks an' walkin' sthicks an' shtove lids in their hands, cryin', 'A base Cap Dhry-fuss! th' cap bein' far off in a cage, by dad. So far, so good. 'A base Cap Dhry-fuss! says I; 'an' the same to all thraitors, an' manny iv thim, whether they ar-re or not. But along comes a man with a poor hat.
You talk like a feller that had been to college," and, as the other assented, he scornfully called to his friends, saying "Look here, fellers! Pipe the jellyfish! I never see one of these here animals that was worth a cuss; they plays football an' smokes cigareets at school; then when they're weaned they come off up here an' jump our claims 'cause we can't write a location notice proper.
"These clippings," continued "Bitter Root," fishing into his pocket, "tell in beautiful figgers how the last seen of Oily Heegan he was holystoning the deck of a sooty little tugboat under the admonishments and feet of 'Bitter Root' Billings of Montana, and they state how the strikers tried to get tugs for pursuit and couldn't, and how, all day long, from the housetops was visible a tugboat madly cruisin' about inside the outer cribs, bustin' the silence with joyful blasts of victory, and they'll further state that about dark she steamed up the river, tired and draggled, with a bony-lookin' cowboy inhalin' cigareets on the stern-bits, holding a three-foot knotted rope in his lap.
He b'en started ev' since the very firs' time he ev' lay eyes on him prancin' up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. You' grampaw don' like none nem callers, but he everlas'n'ly did up an' take a true spite on thishere li'l Dills!" "I mean," said Herbert, "what started him last night?" "Them cigareets," said Kitty Silver.
I'll bet he combs his hair in the middle and smokes cigareets out'n a box! The putty-headed loons can't even roll their own smokes." "Don't believe," hazarded Lee indifferently, "from the looks of our visitor that that the owner smokes anything!" "Listen to that!" grunted Ward Hannon. "Softy, huh?" "Well," Bud admitted slowly, "looks sort of like a girl, you know!"
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