“That jest shows that the fellers that make our books don’t know what to put in ’em. The idear of leavin’ out Pecos Bill.” “But who was Pecos Bill?” “Who was he? Why, he was jest about the most celebrated man in the whole dang cow country.” “What was his real name?” “So far as I know the only real name he ever had was Pecos Bill. Don’t suppose anybody knows what his daddy’s name was. You see, in his day it wasn’t good manners to ask a feller his name, and besides it wasn’t good judgment either. And it ain’t been so long. Many a greenhorn bein’ ignorant of that little point of good manners has looked down the muzzle of a six-shooter and then died. “Pecos Bill’s daddy didn’t say what they called him back in the States, and nobody asked him. They jest called him the Ole Man, for he was old--about seventy some odd when he came to Texas.” “When did he come to Texas?” asked Lanky. “I couldn’t say about that exactly,” said Joe. “It must of been right about the time Sam Houston discovered Texas. Anyhow, the Ole Man loaded up all his twelve kids and his Ole Woman and his rifle, and all his other stuff in an oxwagon and lit out hellbent for Texas as soon as he found out there was sech a place. They say other people that come later didn’t have no trouble findin’ the way. They jest went by the Indian skeletons that the Ole Man left along his road. “Well, they finally got to the Sabine River. The Ole Man stops his oxen, old Spot and Buck, he calls ’em, and rounds up all his younguns and has ’em set down and listen while he makes ’em a speech. ‘Younguns,’ he says, ‘that land you see on the other side of the river is Texas, wild and woolly and full of fleas. And if you ain’t that way only more so, you ain’t no brats of mine.’” “I’d always heard that Pecos Bill was born in Texas,” interrupted Red. “Jest wait,” said Joe. “Jest wait; have I said he wasn’t? Them was the other kids. “As I was about to say, they crossed the river and camped for the night. That was in Texas, savvy. And that night Pecos Bill was born. The next mornin’ the Ole Woman put him on a bear’s skin and left him to play with his self while she made the corn-pone for breakfast. And right then’s when they come dang near losin’ Pecos Bill. “Bears or Indians?” asked Lanky. “Neither one,” said Joe. “Bears and Indians didn’t mean nothin’ to that old man. He would have et ’em for breakfast. Once later when the Ole Man and the older brats was gone, the Comanches did try to git Bill, but the Ole Woman lit into ’em with the broom-handle and killed forty-nine right on the spot. She never knowed how many she crippled and let git away. No, it wasn’t the Indians. It was miskeeters.” “Malaria?” said Lanky.