“There yuh go! Dad blame it, yuh’re as bad as Emmy! Proof? You’ll git sued for false charges. Dad blast it, ain’t this a free country? You stilt-legged gallinipper, comin’ up here from Texas, tellin’ me what to do! It’s my water-hole, ain’t it? Well, don’t set there and grin like a monkey with a stomach ache. Say somethin’.” “How is Aunt Emmy, Fuzzy?” “Well, that ain’t exactly changin’ the subject. She’s fine.” “Still actin’ as yore guardian angel, eh?” “She sniffs my breath, if that’s what yuh mean. Got the best nose for alcohol in the world. Her ma was scared by a bloodhound. Emmy is all right, except that she uses the Bible as a rule-book. She’s ag’in the Devil, I know that. I ain’t never knowed anybody so set against a entire stranger as she is ag’in the Devil. Pers’nally, I’d like to meet him and ask him how he stands it.” “Mebbe it’s the heat, Fuzzy. If yuh get hot enough yuh can stand anythin’. How’s the Bar D goin’, except for the water-hole?” “Well, pretty good, Skeet. Have yuh got a horse here? Yuh have? Go hang the hull on him, and we’ll be goin’.” “Yuh mean, yuh’re invitin’ me out to the ranch?” asked Skeeter. “I am not--I’m orderin’ yuh. Emmy’d never forgive me if I told her you was in town and didn’t come out with me. And you know what it means to not have forgiveness for yore sins, Skeet.” Skeeter Bill had known Aunt Emma Davis for years. Tall, rawboned, severe-looking, her wispy, colorless hair drawn tightly to a frizzly-looking knob at the back of her head, she stood on the porch of the Bar D ranchhouse, shading her eyes against the sun as Skeeter Bill and Fuzzy rode up to the porch. “Emmy,” called Fuzzy, “I found me a prodigal son.” Skeeter grinned, and Mrs. Davis leaned out further, clinging with one hand to a porch-post. “Skeeter Bill!” she half-screamed. “You--you git off that horse and come here! Where on earth did you come from?” “Aunt Emma, I’m fresh from Texas,” he grinned. “You’re fresh from any place you come from, young man. Unpin yourself from that saddle. My, my! You’re the last man I ever expected to see! I had a hunch that you two was the sheriff and deputy, comin’ in to tell me that Fuzzy was in jail or among the angels. Yuh see, he had a awful mad expression when he left here. No, I ain’t goin’ to kiss you, Skeeter. Fuzzy’s the only man I ever kissed, and don’t make any funny remarks about it. I realize that I’ve missed a lot in life.” III Fuzzy took the two horses down to the stable, while Skeeter Bill sat down on the shaded porch with Mrs. Davis. She didn’t ask questions but waited for Skeeter Bill to tell what he wanted to tell. “Yuh’re lookin’ fine, Aunt Emma,” remarked Skeeter. “I look just like I’ve looked for twenty years and it ain’t fine. Time don’t improve me, Skeeter. You ain’t changed.” “I’m so good-lookin’,” said Skeeter soberly, “that any change would have to be for the worse. I feel good, too. Yuh remember that Hooty and Margie named their boy after me, don’t yuh?”