"As I states, I'm camped on the Concha, an` the Colonel, who's allers out to try experiments an' new deals, puts it up he'll go down to the river an' take a swim.Tharupon he lines out for the water.
"Jerry's hangin' about camp--for he's sorter a pet mule--allowin'
mebby I submits a ham-rind or some sech delicacy to him to chew on;an' he hears the Colonel su'gest he'll swim some.So when the Colonel p'ints for the Concha, Jerry sa'nters along after, figgerin', mighty likely, as how he'll pass the hour a-watchin' the Colonel swim.
"I'm busy on flapjacks at the time--which flapjacks is shore good food--an' I don't observe nothln' of Jerry nor the Colonel neither.
They's away half an hour when I overhears ejac'lations, though Ican't make out no words.I don't have to get caught in no landslide to tumble to a game, an' I'm aware at once that Jerry an' the Colonel has got their destinies mixed.
"Nacherally, I goes over to the held of strife, aimin' to save Jerry, or save the Colonel, whichever has the other down.When Ibursts on the scene, the Colonel starts for me, splutterin' an'
makin' noises an' p'intin' at Jerry, who stands thar with an air of innocence.The Colonel's upper lip hangs down queer, like an ant-eater's, an' he can't talk.It's all mighty amazin'.
"'What's all this toomult about?' I says.
"The short of the riot is this: The Colonel goes in for a swim, an'
he lays out his false teeth that a-way on a stone.When he comes for his teeth they's shorely gone, an' thar stands Jerry puttin' it on he's asleep.Them teeth is filed away in Jerry.
"Which the Colonel raves 'round frightful, an' wants to kill Jerry an' amputate him, an' scout for the teeth.But I won't have it.I'm goin' to need Jerry down further on the quicksand fords of the Canadian; an', as I explains, them teeth is a wreck by now, an' no good if he get's 'em ag'in; Jerry munchin' of his food powerful.
"After a while I rounds up the Colonel an' herds him back to camp.
Jerry has shore sawed off a sore affliction on that tenderfoot when he takes in them teeth; I can see that.His lip hangs like a blacksmith's apron, an' he can't talk a little bit; jest makes signs or motions, like he's Injun or deef.
"It's mebby two weeks later when Jerry gets another shot at the Colonel.It's the evenin' after the night Jerry sneaks into camp, soft-foot as a coyote, noses open the grub-box, an' eats five bottles of whiskey; all we has.We've pitched camp, an' I've hobbled this Jerry mule an' his mate--the other wheeler--an' throwed 'em loose, an' is busy hobblin' my nigh-swing mule, when trouble begins fomentin' between my tenderfoot an' Jerry.
"The fact is it's done fomented.This Colonel, bein' some heated about that whiskey, an' plumb sore on Jerry on account of them teeth, allows to himse'f he'll take a trace-chain an' warp Jerry once for luck.
"If this yere tenderfoot had been free with me, an' invited me into his confidence touchin' his designs, I'd took a lariat an' roped an'
throwed Jerry for him, an' tied the felon down, an' let the Colonel wallop him an hour or so: but the Colonel's full of variety that a-way, or mebby he thinks I'll side with Jerry.Anyhow, he selects a trace-chain, an', without sayin' a word, dances all cautious towards his prey.Which this is relaxation for Jerry.
[drawing of Jerry kicking the Colonel with caption: "That he'pless shorthorn stops both heels.]
"While that Colonel tenderfoot is a rod away, Jerry turns his tail some sudden in his direction, an' the next instant that he'pless shorthorn stops both heels some'ers about the second button of his shirt.That settles it; the Colonel's an invalid immediate.Ishorely has a time with him that night.
"The next day he can't walk, an' he can't ride in the wagon 'cause of the jolts.It all touches my heart, an' at last I ups an' make a hammock outen a Navajo blanket, which is good an' strong, an' swings the Colonel to the reach of the trail wagon.
"It's mostly a good scheme.Where the ground's level the Colonel comes on all right; but now an' then, when a wheel slumps into a rut, the Colonel can't he'p none but smite the ground where he's the lowest, an' it all draws groans an' laments from him a heap.
"One time, when the Colonel's agony makes him groan speshul strong, I sees Jerry bat his eyes like he enjoys it; an' then Jerry mentions somethin' to his mate over the chain.We're trottin' along the trail at the time, an', bein' he's the nigh-wheeler--which is the saddle-mule of a team--I'm ridin' Jerry's compadre, an' when I notes how Jerry is that joyous about it I reaches across an' belts him some abrupt between the y'ears with the butt of a shot-filled black-snake.It rather lets the whey outen Jerry's glee, an' he don't get so much bliss from that tenderfoot's misfortunes as he did.
"It goes along all right ontil I swings down to the crossin' of the Canadian.It's about fourth-drink time in the afternoon, an' I'm allowin' to ford the Canadian that evenin' an' camp on t'other side.
The river is high an' rapid from rain some'ers back on its head waters, an' it's wide an' ugly.It ain't more'n four foot deep, but the bottom is quicksand, an' that false, if I lets my wagons stop ten seconds anywhere between bank an' bank, I'm goin' to be shy wagons at the close.I'll be lucky if I win out the mules.It's shore a hard, swift crossin'.
"I swings down, as I says, to the river's aige with my mind filled up about the rush I've got to make.It's go through on the run or bog down.First I settles in my saddle, gives the outfit the word, an' then, pourin' the whip into the two leaders, I sends the whole eight into the water on the jump.The river is runnin' like a scared wolf, an' the little lead mules hardly touches bottom.
"As the trail wagon takes the water, an' the two leaders is plumb in to the y'ears, a howl develops to the r'ar.It's my pore tenderfoot in his hammock onder the trail wagon.He shrieks as the water gets to him; an' it all hits me like a bullet, for I plumb overlooks him, thinkin' of that quicksand crossin'.
