Hygeia at the Solito
121
and I let it go at dat. And, say, friend, dis chasin’ cows is outer sight. Dis is de whitest bunch of sports I ever travelled with. You’ll let me stay, won’t yer, old man?”
Raidler looked wonderingly toward Ross Hargis.
“That cussed little runt,” remarked Ross tenderly, “is the Jo-dartin’est hustler—and the hardest hitter in anybody’s cow camp.”
