"'Which I performs said equestrianisms to amoose that she-shorthorn
who is cussin' us out.' says Steve 'I ain't permittin' for her to go
back to the States, malignin' of us cow-men.'
"Steve gets himse'f downed a year after, an' strikes out for new
ranges in the skies. He's over on the upper Red River when he gets
creased. He's settin' into a poker game.
"Steve never oughter gambled none. He is a good cow-boy--splendid
round-up hand--an' can do his day's work with rope or iron in a
brandin' pen with anybody; but comin' right to cases, he don't know
no more about playin' poker than he does about preachin'. Actooally,
he'd back two pa'r like thar's no record of their bein' beat. This
yere, of course, leads to frequent poverty, but it don't confer no
wisdom on Steve.
"On this o'casion, when they ships Steve for the realms of light,
one of the boys gets a trey-full; Steve being possessed of a heart
flush, nine at the head. In two minutes he don't have even his
blankets left.
"After he's broke, Steve h'ists in a drink or two an' sours 'round a
whole lot; an' jest as the trey-full boy gets into his saddle, Steve
comes roamin' along up an' hails him.
"'Pard,' says Steve, a heap gloomy, 'I've been tryin' to school
myse'f to b'ar it, but it don't go.
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