d
Endicott, puzzled as he was piqued, at the girl's attitude, joined the
two who were busy with the pack. "He's just perfectly stunning in that
outfit," thought Alice as she watched him disappear in the timbers.
"Oh, I don't know--sometimes I wish--" but the wish became confused
somehow with the sizzling of bacon. And with tight-pressed lips, she
got out the tin dishes.

"What's the matter, Win--steal a sheep?" asked the Texan as he paused,
blanket in hand, to regard Endicott.

"What?"

"What did _you_ catch hell for? You didn't imbibe no embalmin' fluid."
Endicott grinned and the cowboy finished rolling his blanket.

"Seems like we're in bad, some way. She didn't say nothin' much, but I
managed to gather from the way she looked right through the place where
I was standin' that I could be got along without for a spell. Her
interruptin' me right in the middle of a song to impart that I'd be'n
drinkin' kind of throw'd me under the impression that the pastime was
frowned on, but the minute I seen you comin' through the brush like you
was sneaking off at recess, I know'd you was included in the boycott
an' that lets the booze out. Seein's our conscience is clear, it must
be somethin' _she_ done that she's took umbrage at, as the feller says,
an' the best thing we can do is to overlook it. I don't know as I'd
advise tellin' her so, but we might just kind of blend into the scenery
onobtrusive 'til the thaw comes. In view of which I'll just take a
little drink an' sing you a song I heard down on the Rio Grande."
Thrusting his arm into the end of his blanket roll, the Texan drew
forth his bottle and, taking a drink, carefully replaced it. "This
here song is _The Old Chisholm Trail_, an' it goes like this:

"Come along; boys, and listen to my tale,
I'll tell you of my troubles on the old Chisholm trail.

Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.

I started up the trail October twenty-third,
I started up the trail with the 2-U herd.

Oh, a ten dollar hoss and a forty dollar saddle--
And I'm goin' to punchin' Texas cattle.

I woke up one morning on the old Chisholm trail,
Rope in my hand and a cow by the tail.

I'm up in the mornin' afore daylight
And afore I sleep the moon shines bright.

Old Ben Bolt was a blamed good boss,
But he'd go to see the girls on a sore-backed hoss.

Old Ben Bolt was a fine old man
And you'd know there was whiskey whe