Ha, ha, ha!"
He explained: "He's lost his only standin' joke, and now the laugh's on
pa!"
Nash sipped his coffee and waited. On the mountain desert one does not
draw out a narrator with questions.
"There was a feller come along early this mornin' on a lame hoss," the
story began. "He was a sure enough tenderfoot--leastways he looked it
an' he talked it, but he wasn't."
The familiarity of this description made Steve sit up a trifle
straighter.
"Was he a ringer?"
"Maybe. I dunno. Pa meets him at the door and asks him in. What d'you
think this feller comes back with?"
The boy paused to remember and then with twinkling eyes he mimicked:
"'That's very good of you, sir, but I'll only stop to make a trade with
you--this horse and some cash to boot for a durable mount out of your
corral. The brute has gone lame, you see.'
"Pa waited and scratched his head while these here words sort of sunk
in. Then says very smooth: 'I'll let you take the best hoss I've got,
an' I won't ask much cash to boot.'
"I begin wonderin' what pa was drivin' at, but I didn't say
nothin'--jest held myself together and waited.
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