I ain't none s'prised at your
luck, 'Doby,' goes on Billy. ` I half foresees some sech racket as
this the minute you gets married. However, if it's a boy she goes. I
ain't the gent to lay down on an old-time runnin'-mate while luck's
ag'in him; an' I'll still be your partner an' play out my hand.'
"Of course, 'Doby has to go back to lookout his game. An' as Billy's
that rent an' shaken by them news he can't work none, he takes two
or three drinks of nose-paint, an' then promulgates as how it's a
holiday. Billy feels, too, that while this yere's a blow, still it's
a great occasion; an' as he takes to feelin' his whiskey an'
roominatin' on the tangled state of affairs, it suddenly strikes him
he'll jest nacherally close up the trail by the house.
"'Women is frail people an' can't abide noises that a-way,' says
Billy, ` an' 'Doby's shore lookin' some faded himse'f. I reckons,
tharfore, I'll sorter stop commerce along this yere thoroughfar'
ontil further orders. What 'Doby an' his squaw needs now is quietood
an' peace, an' you can wager all you-alls is worth they ain't goin'
to suffer no disturbances.'
"It ain't half an hour after this before Billy's got two signs, both
down an' up the trail, warnin' of people to hunt another wagon-
track.
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