"I never tried it, and I am afraid
I would bungle the job." Without hesitation the Texan complied, deftly
interposing his body so that the pilgrim could not see that the tobacco
he poured into the paper was the last in his sack. He extended the
little cylinder. "When you get that lit, you better crawl into them
clothes of yours an' we'll be hittin' the back-trail. Out here in the
open ain't no place for us to be."
Endicott surveyed his sorry outfit with disfavour. "I would rather
stick to the B.V.D.'s, if it were practical."
"B.V.D., B.V.D.," repeated the Texan. "There ain't no such brand on
this range. Must be some outfit south of here--what did you say about
it?"
"I said my B.V.D.'s," he indicated his under-garments; "these would be
preferable to those muddy trousers and that shirt."
"Oh, that's the brand of your longerie. Don't wear none myself, except
in winter, an' then thick ones. I've scrutinized them kind, though,
more or less thorough--hangin' on lines around nesters' places an' home
ranches, when I'd be ridin' through. Never noticed none with B.V.D. on
'em, though. The brand most favoured around here has got XXXX FLOUR
printed acrost the broad of 'em, an' I've always judged 'em as
belongin' to the opposin' sect."
Endicott chuckled as he gingerly arrayed himself in the damp garments
and when he was dressed, Tex regarded him quizzically: "Them belongin's
of yourn sure do show neglect, Win.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197