I'm goin' to dig round like I was goin' to take a
sleep--and find these here eggs. Then I'm goin' to count 'em nacheral,
and pile 'em handy to you. Then we rig up a deal like we was gamblin'
for 'em, to kind of pass the time. If that don't git them two coyotes
interested, why, nothin' will. Next to gamblin' a Chola likes to
_watch_ gamblin' better 'n 'most anything. When you git to win all my
eggs, I make a holler like I'm mad. You been cheatin'. And if them
two Cholas ain't settin' with their mouths open and lookin' at us, why,
I don't know Cholas. They're listenin' right now--but they don't sabe.
Go ahead and talk like you was askin' me somethin'."
"What's your game after we start beefin' about the eggs?"
"You pick up a couple--and I pick up a couple. First you want to move
round so you kin swing your arm. When I call you a doggone bald-face
short-horn, jest let your Chola have the eggs plumb in his eye. If
they bust like I figure, we got a chanct to jump 'em--but we got to
move quick. They's a old single-tree layin' right clost to your elbow,
kind of half under the hay.
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