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I knew 'at Jim would be glad to see me, but I knew I'd be lonesomer there than among total strangers; so I just floated, punchin' cows most o' the time, but not runnin' very long over the same range. It was just about this period that I begun to lose my serious view o' life and get more man-like.
I wus kind o' foreman o' the 'U bar U's' in Canada, an' Joe wus punchin' cows then. The boys wus sheer grit; good hands, mind you, but sudden-like." Arizona ceased plastering the soap on his saddle and stood erect.
From your description I should say so. See here. I don't know you, but I need a cook. The Concho is thirty miles in. I'm headed the other way, but if you are game to walk it, I'll see if I can use you." "Me! You ain't givin' me another josh, be you?" "Never a josh. You won't think so when you get to punchin' dough for fifteen hungry cowboys. Want to try it?" "Say, mister, I'm just comin' to.
I can't see no way out, Smoke, except main strength an' sweat an' to plow through. If the whole creek was glare-ice they ain't room for a dozen teams abreast. I got a hunch right now they's goin' to be a heap of scrappin' before they get strung out. An' if any of it comes our way, you got to let me do the punchin'." Smoke squared his shoulders and laughed non-committally.
Miss Dianny, she likes a feller to git yarnin', an', seein' as I've been punchin' most all through the States, she kind o' notioned my yarns. Which I 'lows is reasonable. She'd fixed my chest up, an' got me trussed neat an' all, an' set right down aside me fer a gas. You know her ways, kind o' sad an' saft.
"Let's get away from here and go to some other part of the car," whispered Dick. "No, we'll just stay here an' spite him. He'll wake up after a while an' be glad to listen to ther story. So here goes! "I was punchin' cow's down on the Pecos one summer fer ther Crazy B Ranch.
'Now, says I, 'whin we're afraid to injure their feelin's, I says, 'an' whin we 'pologise befure we punch, they bate us, I says. 'They're used to 'pologisin' with wan hand an' punchin' with th' other, I says. 'Th' on'y way is th' way iv me cousin Mike, I says.
She was just a girl then, an' I was only a kid, punchin' steers for a livin'. I suppose we've seen about as hard times as anybody. At least that's what they would be called now. But, hell, we didn't think nothin' of it then; we was happy, sir, and we've been happy for over forty year.
About ten year ago I got plumb sick of punchin' cows around my part of the country. She hadn't rained since Noah, and I'd forgot what water outside a pail or a trough looked like. So I scouted around inside of me to see what part of the world I'd jump to, and as I seemed to know as little of Colorado and minin' as anything else, I made up the pint of bean soup I call my brains to go there.
The stout boy was standing in the doorway, observing him with an attentive eye. "What are you doing?" enquired Ogden. Jerry passed a gloved fist over his damp brow. "Punchin' the bag." He began to remove his gloves, eyeing Ogden the while with a disapproval which he made no attempt to conceal.
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