Which
this is about as refreshin' to Cherokee as bein' burned at the
stake. But the mother she leans back an' smiles, an' of course he's
plumb he'pless. Finally the black. coat gent p'ints in for another
talk.
"'What is your name, my pore worm?' says the black-coat gent,
addressin' of Texas; 'an' whatever avocation has you an' your lost
companion?'
"I Why,' says Texas, 'this yere's Hall--Cherokee Hall. He turns faro
in the Red Light; an',' continues Texas, a-lowerin' of his voice,
'he's as squar' a gent as ever counted a deck. Actooally, pard, you
might not think it, but all that gent knows about settin' up kyards,
or dealin' double, or anv sech sinful scheme, is mere tradition.'
"'Brother,' says the female, bristlin' up an' tacklin' the black-
coat gent, 'don't talk to them persons no more. Them's gamblers, an'
mighty awful men;' an' with that she snatches away the yearlin's
like they's contam'nated.
'This is relief to Cherokee, but the young-ones howls like coyotes,
an' wants to come back an' finish pillagin' him. But the mother she
spanks 'em, an' when Texas is goin' to give 'em some cartridges
outen his belt to amoose 'em, she sasses him scand'lous, an' allows
she ain't needin' no attentions from him.
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