With a furious shake the bosun's mate attempted to banish his gloomy thoughts, and turning to Broncho, remarked with a suspicious carelessness in his deep voice: "Jack Derringer gives out to me as 'ow you wos a cowpuncher, an' it gets me teetotally 'ow you plays your little game." "Wall," returned the cattleman politely, "it's some difficult to explain, you not bein' a cowman. What is it you-alls is aimin' for to know the savvy of? Is it cuttin' out or brandin' or night herdin', hoss-wranglin', workin' on a trail outfit, or what?" "'Orse-wrangler's a josser as does a bunk wiv the 'orses, ain't he?" "No, siree," replied Broncho seriously. "You're some tangled in your rope. That's a hoss-rustler. Hoss-wrangler is what we-alls call the longhorn who keeps tab o' buckskins, pintos, an' sech-like obstrep'rous but some necessary parties." "I'm all jammed in a clinch. Your lingo'll shift me off my bedplate afore long. What kind er flat-foot is a buckskin?" The polite cowpuncher made no remark as to his inability to understand Bill's naval idioms, but explained: "A buckskin's a sort o' cayuse----" "I'm a leatherneck if you ain't enuff to make a blighter tin-hats.[12] An' wot's a cayuse?" Broncho looked faintly astonished at the extraordinary ignorance of the man-of-war's man. "A cow-pony," he said, half in sorrow. "Is my upper-works collapsin', or wot? A cow-pony? Wot sort er bally hermofridite is that?" "Why, a cow-hoss----" "Cow-'orse? Am I 'alf-rats, or is you 'avin' a game? If so, governor, I guess you an' me'll part brass-rags----" "Thar's generally a pretty fair mob of 'em in a round-up or trail-outfit; ten or twelve per man is the usual play," went on Broncho serenely, passing over Bill Benson's excited words, which, of course, were double-Dutch to him. The bosun's mate sighed faintly. "Go on; oh, go on," he said resignedly. "An' wot's brandin'?" "Wall, thar's range-brands an' road-brands. Sometimes it's a wattle cut on the jaw, sometimes a slit dewlap, but mostly we-alls just irons 'em on the hindquarter. Brands that-away is mighty numerous an' variegated. These few I recalls for your eedification--The Running W, Laurel-Leaf, Circle, Lazy H, Pitchfork, Double-Bracket, the Two-Bar----" "I've 'eard o' monkey brand, but I'm a blighted grabby if I ever navigates with a range-brand afore. Noo-fangled range-finder, I s'pose. A wattle-cut on the jaw I can keep stations with. It's a nawsty upper-cut that, I h'expec', likely to 'eat the bearin's of the josser wot cops it. Well, wot's the nex' course? Branding'll pass; it's too deep for my intellec'. Rub it off the signal-slate an' sachey ahead." "Then thar's bound'ry-ridin', which is scoutin' round watchin' the cattle don't get strayed or drifted offen their proper range." "I s'pose you does your manœuvrin' on a geegee most times?" "On'y sech low and 'ornery mavericks as sheepmen foots it in the cow-country."