"
"He was spreading it on thick, Pete. Regular stuff. What little I
know I got from observation--and a little reading."
"Well, I aim to do some lookin' around myself. But when it comes to
readin' books--"
"Reckon I'll let you take 'Robinson Crusoe'--it's a bed-rock story.
And if you finish that before you leave, I'll bet you a new Stetson
that you'll ask for another."
"I could easy win that hat,"--and Pete grinned.
"Not half as easy as you could afford to lose it."
"Meanin' I could buy one 'most any time?"
"No. I'll let you figure out what I meant." And the sturdy little
sheriff heaved himself out of a most comfortable chair and waddled up
the street, while Pete stared after him trying to reconcile bow-legs
and reading books, finally arriving at the conclusion that education,
which he had hitherto associated with high collars and helplessness,
might perhaps be acquired without loss of self-respect. "It sure
hadn't spoiled Jim Owen," who was "as much of a real man as any of
'em"--and could handle talk a whole lot better than most men who
boasted legs like his.
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