The talk for the moment was centered upon "ring-tail" in horses, a subject upon which Brigham Clark claimed to be an authority, although Bowles had never even heard of it before. "No, sir," asserted Brigham, addressing the company at large; "you show me a ring-tailed hawse, and I'll show you a hawse with weak kidneys, every time. Now, I don't say how he gits them weak kidneys, y'understand; he may git 'em from bein' rode too young, the way Uncle Joe claims; or he may git 'em from drinkin' bad water, like folks; or he may jest be born that way. But that ain't the point--when you take a nice young hawse and turn him up a hill, and he quits and goes to ringin' his tail around--that hawse is weak, I say, or he wouldn't quit. A ring-tailed hawse is a weak hawse, and you might jest as well give 'im to the kids to play with--he'll never be no good fer a cow-pony." Coming as this did at the end of a long and technical argument, it was allowed to pass by the company. A quiet fell, and three or four men to leeward got up to avoid the smoke; but all the time Brigham Clark sat on the box he had captured, his big black hat pushed back on his head, his hand held out to the fire, and his shrewd eyes twinkling as he gazed down into the flames. Then he shook with silent laughter, and they knew he was off on another one. "Heh, heh, heh!" he chuckled. "Speakin' of ring-tails reminds me of a ring-tailed monkey I used to have to take care of when I was on the road. He was the orneriest little brat you ever see in yore life--a little, spider-legged proposition, with a long, limber tail, and big eyes that he'd always be winkin' and a-blinkin' while he was figurin' out some new kind of devilment--and all the time he'd be sneezin' and cuddlin' and snugglin' up ag'inst you like he loved you more'n his mammy. The boss's wife kept the little snifter fer company-like, and she'd pet and coddle and talk foolish to 'im until the boss would nigh have a fit. Jest like when a woman keeps a lap-dog, I reckon--kinder makes a man want to kill 'im, to keep her from muchin' 'im all the time. "Well, this here lady was shore foolish about that monkey, and every mornin' when we were in a town I had to take 'im out fer a walk. Leastways, somebody had to do it; and rather than not see the town at all I'd take him along under my arm. If I'd had a hand-organ I'd shore made a lot of money that trip--but I was thinkin' about the time I took the ring out of his tail. Every time we'd come to a tree, or a fire-escape, or something like that, the little devil would begin to hook up at it with his tail; and this time I'm speakin' of we was goin' through a little park, and I'm a son-of-a-gun if he didn't git away on me. Jest reached out with his tail where it was hangin' down behind, and grabbed a limb, and slipped the collar on me.