ry," says I.

"And ain't it interestin' to reflect," he goes on, "that if all the
finger-nail parin's of the human race for one year was to be collected
and subjected to hydraulic pressure it would equal in size the pyramid
of Cheops?"

"Look here," says I, sittin' up, "did you ever pause to excogitate that
if all the hot air you is dispensin' was to be collected together it
would fill a balloon big enough to waft you and me over that Bullyvard
of Palms to yonder gin mill on the corner?"

He didn't say nothin' to that--just yanked me to my feet, faced me
towards the gin mill above mentioned, and exerted considerable pressure
on my arm in urgin' of me forward.

"You ain't so much of a dreamer, after all," thinks I. "In important
matters you are plumb decisive."

We sat down at little tables, and my friend ordered a beer and a chicken
sandwich.

"Chickens," says he, gazin' at the sandwich, "is a dollar apiece in this
country, and plumb scarce. Did you ever pause to ponder over the returns
chickens would give on a small investment? Say you start with ten hens.
Each hatches out thirteen aigs, of which allow a loss of say six for
childish accidents. At the end of two years that flock has increased to
six hundred and twenty. At the end of the third year----"

He had the medicine tongue! Ten days later him and me was occupyin' of
an old ranch fifty mile from anywhere. When they run stage-coaches this
joint used to be a road-house. The outlook was on about a thousand
little brown foothills. A road two miles four rods two foot eleven
inches in sight run by in front of us. It come over one foothill and
disappeared over another. I know just how long it was, for later in the
game I measured it.

Out back was about a hundred little wire chicken corrals filled with
chickens. We had two kinds. That was the doin's of Tuscarora. My pardner
called himself Tuscarora Maxillary. I asked him once if that was his
real name.

"It's the realest little old name you ever heerd tell of," says he. "I
know, for I made it myself--liked the sound of her. Parents ain't got no
rights to name their children. Parents don't have to be called them
names."

Well, these chickens, as I said, was of two kinds. The first was these
low-set, heavy-weight propositions with feathers on their laigs, and not
much laigs at that, called Cochin Chinys. The other was a tall
ridiculous outfit made up entire of bulgin' breast and gangle laigs.
They stood about