" The Texan poured some flour into
a pan and threw in a couple of liberal pinches of baking-powder.
Alice's eyes followed his every movement, and she glanced toward the
spring that Endicott had churned into a mud hole. The cowboy noted her
glance. "It would be riled too much even if we strained it," he
smiled, "so we'll just use what's left in that flask. It don't take
much water an' the spring will clear in time for the coffee."
"And some people never do learn?" Alice wanted to hear more from this
man's lips concerning the pilgrim. But the Texan mustn't know that she
wanted to hear.
"Yes, some don't learn, some only half learn, an' some learn in a way
that carries 'em along 'til it comes to a pinch--they're the worst.
But, speakin' of Win, after I caught that look, the only surprise I got
when I heard he'd killed Purdy was that he _could_ do it--not that he
_would_. Then later, under certain circumstances that come to pass in
a coulee where there was cottonwoods, him an' I got better acquainted
yet. An' then in the matter of the reservoir--but you know more about
that than I do. You see what I'm gettin' at is this: Win can saddle
his own horse, now, an' he climbs onto him from the left side. The
next time he tackles it he'll shave, an' the next time he muds up a
catch-basin he'll mud it right.
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