'
"Enright don't say no more; sorter rolls up in his blankets, drops
his head on his saddle, an' lays a long time quiet, like he's
asleep. Jack Moore an' me ain't sayin' nothin'; merely settin' thar
peerin' into the fire an' listenin' to the coyotes. At last Enright
lifts his head off the saddle.
"'Mebby it's twenty years ago when a party over on the Rio Grande
allows as how Jim's aimin' to cold-deck me when he onfolds about the
habits of them beans. It takes seven months, a iron constitootion,
an' three medicine-sharps--an' each as good as Doc Peets,--before
that Rio Grande party is regarded as outen danger.'"
CHAPTER VI.
TUCSON JENNIES HEART.
"'Whyever ain't I married?' says you." The Old Cattleman repeated
the question after me as he settled himself for one of our many
"pow-wows," as he described them. "Looks like you've dealt me that
conundrum before. Why ain't I wedded? The answer to that, son, is a
long shot an' a limb in the way.
"Now I reckons the reason why I'm allers wifeless a whole lot is
mainly due to the wide pop'larity of them females I takes after.
Some other gent sorter gets her first each time, an' nacherally that
bars me.
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