"'How many of these yere offsprings, corral count, do you-all lay
claim to anyway?' asks Mace.
"'Which I've got my brand onto 'leven of 'em,' says the pore parent,
beginnin' to sob a whole lot. 'Of course this yere young-one gettin'
strayed this a-way leaves me short one. It makes it a mighty rough
crossin', stranger, after bringin' that boy so far. The old woman,
she bogs right down when she knows, an' I don't reckon she'll be the
same he'pmeet to me onless I finds him ag'in.'
"'Oh, well,' says Mace, tryin' to cheer this bereft person up, 'we
lose kyards in the shuffle which the same turns up all right in the
deal; an' I reckons we-alls walks down this yearlin' of yours ag'in,
too. What for brands or y'earmarks, does he show, so I'll know him.'
"'As to brands an' y'earmarks,' says the party, a-wipin' of his eye,
'he's shy a couple of teeth, bein' milk-teeth as he's shed; an'
thar's a mark on his for'ard where his mother swipes him with a
dipper, that a-way, bringin' him up proper. That's all I remembers
quick.'
"Mace tells the party to take a cinch on his feelin's, an' stampedes
over to the Mexican part of camp, which is called Chilili, on a
scout for the boy.
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