At last he sa'nters over an' remarks,
'Whatever is your callin', pard?' or some sech bluff as that. "I
sees he's good people fast enough; still I allows a small, brief
jolt mebby does hire good.
"'Well,' I says, intendin' to let him know I'm alive an' wakeful
that a-way; 'well, whatever my callin' is, at least it ain't been no
part of my bringin' up to let mere strangers stroll into the corral
an' cinch a saddle onto me for a conversational canter, jest because
they're disp'sitioned that a-way. "'No offence meant,' says the old
party, an' I observes he grows red an' ashamed plumb up to his white
ha'r. "Excuse me, amigo," I says, handin' out my paw, which he
seizes all radiant an' soon, "I ain't intendin' nothin' blunt, nor
to slam no door on better acquaintance, but when you--all ropes at
me about what you refers to as my "callin"' that time, I ain't jest
lookin' for a stranger to take sech interest in me, an' I'm startled
into bein' onp'lite. I tharfore tenders regrets, an', startin' all
over, states without reserve that I'm a cow man. "An' now,' I
retorts, further, "merely to play my hand out, an' not that I looks
to take a trick at all, let me ask what pursoots do you p'int out on
as a pretext for livin'?"
"'Me?' says the old party, stabbin' at his shirt bosom with his
thumb; 'me? I'm a scientist.
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