He'd jest as soon ride his horse through that door
as he would to walk through, an' he's always puttin' somethin' over on
someone. But he's a man. He'd go through hell an' high water fer a
friend. He was the only one of the whole outfit had the guts to tend
Jimmy Trimble when he got the spotted fever--nursed him back to good as
ever, too, after the Doc had him billed through fer yonder." Cinnabar
Joe turned and brought his fist down on the bar. "I'll do it!" he
gritted. "Purdy'll think Tex switched the drinks on me. Only I hope
he wasn't lyin' about that there stuff. Anyways, even if he was, it's
one of them things a man's got to do. An' I'll rest a whole lot easier
in my six by two than what I would if I give Tex the long good-bye
first." Unconsciously, the man began to croon the dismal wail of the
plains:
"O bury me not on the lone praire-e-e
In a narrow grave six foot by three,
Where the buzzard waits and the wind blows free,
Then bury me not on the lone praire-e-e.
Yes, we buried him there on the lone praire-e-e
Where the owl all night hoots mournfulle-e-e
And the blizzard beats and the wind blows free
O'er his lonely grave on the lone praire-e-e.
And the cowboys now as they roam the plain"----
"Hey, choke off on that!" growled Purdy as he advanced with rattling
spurs.
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