An' thar's other test'mony.
"'I don't lay down my hand,' says Texas Thompson, one time when him
an' me is alone, 'to any gent between the Rio Grande an' the Oregon,
on sizin' up a conversation. An' I'll impart to you, holdin' nothin'
back, that the Colonel is shorely the limit. Merely to listen, is an
embarrassment of good things, like openin' a five-hand jack-pot on a
ace-full. He can even out-talk my former wife, the Colonel can, an'
that esteemable lady packs the record as a conversationist in Laredo
for five years before I leaves. She's admittedly the shorest shot
with her mouth on that range. Talkin' at a mark, or in action, all
you has to do is give the lady the distance an' let her fix her
sights once, an' she'll stand thar, without a rest, an' slam
observation after observation into the bull's eye till you'll be
abashed. An' yet, compared to the Colonel yere, that lady stutters!'
"But now to resoome," said my friend when he had sufficiently come
to the rescue of Colonel Sterett and given him his proper place in
my estimation; "we'll take up the thread of the Colonel's remarks
where I leaves off.
"'My grandfather,' says the Colonel, 'is a gent of iron-bound
habits.
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