l you do it--to oblige _me_?"

Now that was more words at one time than the Hen had dropped on Hart's
nephew since he struck the camp; and as the few he'd ever got from her
mostly hadn't been nice ones, and these sounding to him--he being
drunk--like as if they was real good-natured, he was that pleased he
didn't know what to do. Of course he was dead set on the Hen, same as
everybody else was--she truly was a powerful fine woman--and it just
was funny to see how he tried to steady himself on his legs
gentlemanly, and was all over fool smiles.

So he said back to the Hen--speaking slow, to keep his words from
tumbling all over each other--he'd just drive that coach across to
Santa Fe a-hooping if Hill'd lend it to him; and then he asked Hill if
he might have it--and told him he could trust him to handle it in good
shape, because everybody knowed he was a real daisy at driving mules.

For a fact, Hart's nephew did manage well at mule-driving. It was one
of the blame few things that fool knowed how to do. Denver Jones
allowed it was because he was related to 'em--on the father's side.

"Just for this once, Mr. Hill," said the Hen, speaking coaxy. And she
got her head round a little--so Hart's nephew couldn't see what she
was doing--and give Hill a wink to come into the game.

Hill didn't know what in the world the Hen was up to--nobody ever did
know what that Hen was up to when once she got started--but he
reckoned he could take it back in the morning if he didn't think what
she wanted would answer, so in he come: telling Hart's nephew he might
have the coach to do anything (Hill was a kind of a careless talker)
he damn pleased with; and saying he'd have it hitched up and ready
down at the deepo next morning, same as usual, so he could start right
off when the Denver train come in.

When things was settled, all quick that way, Hart's nephew took to
squirming--he seeing, drunk as he was, he'd bit off a blame sight
more'n he cared to chew. But with the Hen right after him--and Hill
and all the rest of the boys backing her, they being sure she'd dandy
cards up her sleeve for the queer game she was playing--he couldn't
make nothing by all his squirms. The boys got at him and told him
anybody could see he was afraid; and the Hen got at him and told him
anybody could see he wasn't, and she said she knew he was about the
bravest man alive; and Hill got at him and told him the road had
improved so, lately, the nearest to ro