The cattleman, having removed his boots, his hat, and his belt, was
ready for bed, and slipped his legs under the blankets. He stooped and
picked up his lariat, which lay coiled on the floor beside him.
"People gets into foolish habits on the range," he said, thumbing the
strong rope curiously, and so doing, spreading out the noose.
"Yes?" smiled Bard, and he also sat up in his bunk.
"It's like a kid. Give him a new toy and he wants to take it to bed with
him. Ever notice?"
"Surely."
"That's the way with me. When I go to bed nothin' matters with me except
that I have my lariat around. I generally like to have it hangin' on a
nail at the head of my bunk. The fellers always laugh at me, but I can't
help it; makes me feel more at home."
And with that, still smiling at his own folly in a rather shamefaced
way, he turned in the blankets and dropped the big coil of the lariat
over a nail which projected from the boards just over the head of his
bunk. The noose was outermost and could be disengaged from the nail by a
single twist of the cowpuncher's hand as he lay passive in the bunk.
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