It's this a-
way: I'm stoppin' with my old gent near Warwhoop Crossin', the same
bein' a sister village to Pine Knot, when he's recalled to my boyish
mind. It looks like Spencer ain't got no kin nearer than a aunt, an'
mebby a stragglin' herd of cousins. He never does have no brothers
nor sisters; an' as for fathers an' mothers an' sech, they all
cashes in before ever Spencer stampedes off for skelps in that
Mexican War at all. "'These yere kin of Spencer's stands his absence
ca'mly, an' no one hears of their settin' up nights, or losin'
sleep, wonderin' where he's at. Which I don't reckon now they'd felt
the least cur'ous concernin' him--for they're as cold-blooded as
channel catfish--if it ain't that Spencer's got what them law
coyotes calls a "estate," an' this property sort o' presses their
hands. So it falls out like, that along at the last of the year, a
black-coat party-lawyer he is-comes breezin' up to me in Warwhoop
an' says he's got to track this yere Spencer to his last camp, dead
or alive, an' allows I'd better sign for the round-up an' accompany
the expedition as guide, feclos'pher an' friend--kind o' go 'long
an' scout for the campaign. "'Two months later me an' that law sharp
is in the Plaza Perdita.
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