d frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring problem.

"Can't tell--the old squaw mighta been telling the truth," he said
reluctantly. "I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said his folks were
dead." And he added defiantly, with a quick glance at Cash, "Far as
I'm concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that way. The kid's doing all
right."

"Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't wonder if
we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They say too much of
that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems to feel all right."

"I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day and
was suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never feazed him, either.
If he can stand that, I guess he ain't very delicate."

"Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so dang
strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, Bud? They
look to me big enough for a ten-year-old."

"I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!" Bud defended his
handiwork "And time I get the seams sewed, and the side lapped over for
buttons--"

"Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for any."

"Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of your
clothes, if you want to right bad."

"Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out," Cash protested.
"Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more saving, you'd have
enough cloth there for two pair of pants. You don't need to cut the legs
so long as all that. They'll drag on the ground so the poor kid can't
walk in 'em without falling all over himself."

"Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?" Bud exploded.
"If you think you can do any better job than what I'm doing, go get
yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you can come hornin' in
on my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right out loud, you can't."

"Yeah--that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull buffalo, and
wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. Go ahead and have
the seat of his pants hangin' down below his knees if you want to!" Cash
got up and moved huffily over to the fireplace and sat with his back to
Bud.

"Maybe I will, at that," Bud retorted. "You can't come around and grab
the job I'm doing." Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward the end of a
thread too coarse for it, and it did not improve his temper to have the
thread refuse to pass through the eye.

Neither did it please him