"'When the Mormons comes wanderin' along, bein' short on grub that
a-way, they nacherally jumps in an' consooms up the whole outfit in
one season, which is why you-alls don't find pickled buffalo in Salt
Lake no more.
"'Bridger an' me starts in, when we learns about it, to fuss with
them polygamists that a-way for gettin' away with our salt buffalos.
But they's too noomerous for us, an' we done quits 'em at last an'
lets it go.'
"Nobody says much when Texas Thompson is through. We merely sets
'round an' drinks. But I sees the Red Dog folks feels mortified.
After a minute they calls on their leadin' prevaricator for a yarn.
His name's Lyin' Jim Riley, which the people who baptizes him
shorely tumbles to his talents.
"This yere Lyin' Jim fills a tin cup with nose-paint, an' leans back
listless-like an' looks at Enright.
"'I never tells you-alls,' he says, 'about how the Ratons gets afire
mighty pecooliar, an' comes near a-roastin' of me up some, do I?
It's this a-way: I'm pervadin' 'round one afternoon tryin' to
compass a wild turkey, which thar's bands of 'em that Fall in the
Ratons a-eatin' of the pinyon-nuts. I've got a Sharp's with me,
which the same, as you-alls knows, is a single-shot, but I don't see
no turks, none whatever.
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