"I'm paid a princely salary," says I, "fer keepin' my thoughts to myself. This here's no case," I continued, "callin' f'r cerebration on my part. If thinkin's the game, it's your move. What's Senator Whaley in politics fer," says I, "if a obscure forty-a-month-an'-found puncher is to be called on to think on the doin's of a U.S. inspector? What's he in this fer at all, if we've got to think at this end of the lariat?" "He was talkin' about cavvs," said the feller, whose name was Reddy--a most ungrammatical cuss. "He was a-pokin' round with the contrack, a-speakin' about cavvs. Wun't you go an' talk to him?" "Not me!" says I, f'r the hull business disgusted me, an' my guilt come back over me shameful, with the eyes an' hair an' things plenteous. Whaley's man rode off, shakin' his head. Next day the inspector hunted me up. "Mr. Driscoll?" says he, f'r I'd been keepin' out of his way. "Correct," says I. "You represent the Elkins' interests in the matter of supplying for the issue, do you not?" says he. "In a kind of a sort of a way," says I, f'r I didn't care to admit too much till I see what he was up to. "In a kind of a sort of a way, mebbe I do. Why?" "Did you have anything to do," says he, unfoldin' a stiff piece of paper, "with procuring the cattle now in readiness for delivery?" "Hell, no!" I yells, an' then seein' my mistake, I jumped an' added: "You see, the top stuff f'r the Injun market is perduced up around Pierre. So we sub-contracted with this Pierre outfit to supply it. It's their funeral, not ours. It's good stock, ain't it?" "I am assured by Senator Whaley's private secretary," says he, "who is a classmate of mine, that there would be great dissatisfaction among the Indians, owing to certain tribal traditions and racial peculiarities--" "You bet!" says I, f'r he seemed to be gettin' wound up an' cast in it, "that's the exact situation!" "Would be dissatisfaction," he went on, "if cattle of the type which in the great markets is considered best, were furnished here. And I have great confidence in his judgment." "So've I," I says. "He's one of the judgmentiousest fellers you ever see." "So let that phase of the question pass," says he, "for the present. But there's a clause in this contract--" "Don't let that worry you," says I. "There's claws in all of 'em if you look close." He never cracked a smile, but unfolded it, and went on. "Here's a clause," says he, "calling for a hundred and fifty cows with calves at foot, for the dairy herd, I presume." "Cavvs at what?" says I. "At foot," says he, p'intin' at a spot along toward the bottom. "Right there!" "It's impossible!" says I. "They don't wear 'em that way." He studied over it quite a while, at that, an' I begun to think I'd won out, but at last he says: "That's the way it reads, an' while I shall not insist upon any particular relation of juxtaposition in offspring and dam-" "Whope!" says I, "back up an' come ag'in pardner."