“Come on through, Hen. Did he buy out Zeb’s herd? I hope he ain’t got mutton for our supper.” And then Telescope sings sort of plaintive like; “I love a little chicken and I love a little fish. When somebody says ‘ham and eggs,’ I pass along my dish, When I get good and hungry I could eat a roarin’ bull, But when they passes mutton meat my stummick’s full.” And then Chuck joins in the chorus: “I’m a tough old rooster, and I’ve eaten snakes, I’ve spread giant powder on my buckwheat cakes, I’ve drank rawhide stew ’till I was out of breath, But when they serves up mutton meat I starves to death.” “You’re a fine bunch of friends!” I snaps, taking a chance that my jaw is still on its hinges. “She was his favorite relative, and since that letter he ain’t done nothing but mope. You’re a danged bunch of ghoul comedians. Muley’s due to kill somebody when he finds out about it. What was the main idea?” “Well,” laughs Telescope, “we made him rich for a while, didn’t we? Zeb orates that he wants Susie to marry money, so we gave it to him in a lump. We puts in that marriage clause just to see if Muley loved her enough to lose the money, Sabe? We knowed danged well that he couldn’t buy no sheep. What did the parrot have to say, Hen?” “Told Hank Padden he could use sheep dip.” “Haw, haw, haw!” whoops Chuck. “Did he honest say that? I sat up all one night and day trying to teach that parrot some sheep-talk, but all it ever did was to bite me. Telescope swiped that cat at the depot in Milwaukee.” * * * * * Just before we reaches the ranch, three people rides in ahead of us and waits for us to come up. It’s Hank Padden, Johnny Myers and “Scenery” Sims. They all got rifles. We exchanges greetings, but they don’t seem glad to see nobody but me. “We don’t aim to be nosey, Mr. Peck,” says Hank, “but we’d admire to hear a little more about them sheep.” “What sheep?” I asks, surprised-like. “Old Testament told me,” says Hank. “He spoke about you going to start a herd here and——” “I thanks you for the compliment,” says I. “It seems nice to be mistaken for a capitalist, Hank, but what I wants to know is this; how long since have you been taking the word of a shepherd? Do I need to deny it?” “Old Testament must have lied, Hank,” states the old man. “He must have been crazy to state such a thing. Somebody’s crazy anyway.” “That’s what I said,” squeaks Scenery. “Hen Peck couldn’t buy a pair of wool socks.” They all nods sort of agreeable-like, and he drives on. “After a while, when there ain’t nobody around to interrupt us, I’m going to ask you a few questions, Henry,” states Chuck, solemn-like. “You better bring a witness,” says I. “All I wants is an uninterested third party present so I can prove I shot in self-defense.” We pulls up to the ranch. The front door is open and two rigs are tied out in front. We pilgrims up to the door, and are greeted with some sight.