“'Let us hope it ain't,' he says, and I could hear his stick scratchin' in the grit of that desert land, makin' a scrabblin' itchy kind of sound. “'Jimmy Bagby,' he says, 'any man's liable to make a mistake sometimes, but that don't necessarily stamp him ez a fool onlessen he sticks to it too long after he's found out it is a mistake.' “'Billy,' I says, 'I can't take issue with you there.'” “'F'r instance now,' he says, 'you take a remark which I let fall some weeks back touch-in' on flags. Well I've been thinkin' that remark over, Jimmy, and I've about come to the conclusion that ef a man has to give up the flag he fout under and can't have it no longer, he mout in time come to be equally comfortable in the shadder of the flag he was born under. He might even come to love 'em both, mighty sincerely--lovin' one fur whut it meant to him once't and fur all the traditions and all the memories it stands fur, and lovin' the other fur whut it may mean to him now and whut it's liable to mean to his children and their children.' “'But Billy,' I says, 'when all is said and done, we fit in defence of a constitutional principle.' “'You bet we did,' he says; 'but it's mostly all been said and it's practically all been done. I figger it out this way, Jimmy. Reguardless of the merits of a given case, ef a man fights fur whut he thinks is right, so fur ez he pussonally is concerned, he fights fur whut is right. I ain't expectin' it to happen yit awhile, but I'm willin' to bet you something that in the days ahead both sides will come to feel jest that way about it too.' “'Do you think so, Billy?' I says. “'Jimmy,' he say, 'I don't only think so--I jest natchelly knows so. I feel it in my bones.' “'Then I persume you must be correct,' I says. “He waits a minute and then he says: 'Jimmy,' he says, 'I don't believe I'd ever make a success ez one of these here passenger-pigeons. Now, a passenger-pigeon ain't got no regular native land of his own. He loves one country part of the time and another country part of the time, dividin' his seasons betwixt 'em. Now with me I'm afraid it's different.' “'Billy,' I says, 'I've about re'ch the conclusion that I wasn't cut out to be a passenger-pigeon, neither.' “He waits a minute, me holdin' back fur him to speak and wonderin' whut his next subject is goin' to be. Bill Priest always was a master one to ramble in his conversations. After a while he speaks, very pensive: “'Jimmy,' he says, 'ef a man was to git up on a hoss, say to-morrow momin' and ride along right stiddy he'd jest about git home by hog-killin' time, wouldn't he?' “'Jest about,' I says, 'ef nothin' serious happened to delay him on the way.' “'That's right,' he says, 'the spare ribs and the chitterlin's would jest about be ripe when he arrove back.' “I didn't make no answer to that--my mouth was waterin' so I couldn't speak. Besides there didn't seem to be nothin' to say.