"You
got my ole hat yet, eh? Doggone if it ain't my ole hat. And she's
ventilated some, too. Well, I'm listenin'."
"And you sure are lookin' fine, Pete. Say, is it you? Or did my hoss
pitch me--and I'm dreamin'--back there on the flat? No. I reckon it's
you all right. I ain't done shakin' yet from the way you come at me
when I rode in. Say, did you git Jim's letter? Why didn't you write
to a guy, and say you was comin'? Reg'lar ole Injun, same as ever.
Quicker 'n a singed bob-cat gittin' off a stove-lid. That Blue Smoke
'way over there? Thought I knowed him. When did they turn you loose
down to El Paso? Ma Bailey was worryin' that they wasn't feedin' you
good. When did you get here? Was you in the gun-fight when The Spider
got bumped off?"
Pete was still gazing at the little round holes in Andy's hat. "Andy,
did you ever try to ride a hoss down the ole mesa trail backwards?"
"Why, no, you sufferin' coyote! What you drivin' at?"
"Here's your hat. Now if you got anything under it, go ahead and talk
up. Which way did you ride when we split, over by the timber there?"
Andy reached over and put a stick of wood on the fire.
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