"A man does lots of things he shouldn't. An' as for talkin', I'm th' most safe talker you ever met. I allus know where I'm talkin', what I'm talkin' about, an' who I'm talkin' to. Now, as I figger it, I'd rather get shot or lynched than starve in a land of beef. What do I care about killin' another man's cows? I'm plumb sick of workin' on a string that some bull-headed foreman can break; an' I'm most awful sick of workin' for wages. _I_ ain't no hired man, d--n it! What I wants is an equal share in what I earns. An' you can believe me, Mister Man, I ain't noways particular what th' work is. I never did have no respect for a man that gambled for pennies. No tin-horn never amounted to nothin'. He can't lose much; but yo're cussed right he can't _win_ much, neither. If th' stakes are high an' th' breaks anywhere near equal, I'll risk my last dollar or my last breath. "As to what I am, you lissen to me: When I'm sober I stays strictly sober, for months at a time; an' when I'm drunk I like ways stays drunk for days at a time. I ain't like some I knows of, half drunk most of th' time an' never really sober. Me, I just serves notice that I'm goin' off on a bender, an' I goes. An' when I comes back I'm sober all th' way through. Here's th' crick. An' I never get drunk when there's work to be did. You can put up that Colt now an' watch me get a fire goin' that won't show a light for any distance or throw much smoke. I tell you I know my business." Ackerman unpacked and turned the horses loose to graze, and by the time he was ready to start cooking, Long Pete had a fire going in a little hollow near the water. "Now you just set down an' watch me cavort an' prance," quoth Long Pete pleasantly. "Reckon mebby you might not move fast enough for my empty belly. Chuck me that flour bag--I'm a reg'lar cook, _I_ am. You just set there an' keep right on thinkin' about me; weigh me calm an' judicial." Ackerman smiled, leaned back against his saddle and obeyed his verbose companion, pondering over what his deft guest had said. He knew of Long Pete by hearsay, and he now marshaled the knowledge in slow and orderly review before his mind. The cook handed him a pan, a tin cup, and a knife, fork, and spoon. Then he waved at the pan. "Take all you want of this grub, an' take it now. This bein' a one-man outfit I'll eat off th' cookin' utensils--utensils sounds misleadin', don't it?--somethin' like tonsils or a disease. Now I warn you: dig in deep an' take all you kin eat, for there won't be no second helpin' after I gets _my_ holt. Want yore coffee now?" "Later, I reckon," smiled Ackerman. "You shore can cook. Better take th' cup first if you wants yore coffee now. I'll use it later."