'
"As I states, I'm camped on the Concha, an` the Colonel, who's
allers out to try experiments an' new deals, puts it up he'll go
down to the river an' take a swim. Tharupon he lines out for the
water.
"Jerry's hangin' about camp--for he's sorter a pet mule--allowin'
mebby I submits a ham-rind or some sech delicacy to him to chew on;
an' he hears the Colonel su'gest he'll swim some. So when the
Colonel p'ints for the Concha, Jerry sa'nters along after,
figgerin', mighty likely, as how he'll pass the hour a-watchin' the
Colonel swim.
"I'm busy on flapjacks at the time--which flapjacks is shore good
food--an' I don't observe nothln' of Jerry nor the Colonel neither.
They's away half an hour when I overhears ejac'lations, though I
can't make out no words. I don't have to get caught in no landslide
to tumble to a game, an' I'm aware at once that Jerry an' the
Colonel has got their destinies mixed.
"Nacherally, I goes over to the held of strife, aimin' to save
Jerry, or save the Colonel, whichever has the other down. When I
bursts on the scene, the Colonel starts for me, splutterin' an'
makin' noises an' p'intin' at Jerry, who stands thar with an air of
innocence.
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