would n't have so many harness sores if he run single th' rest of his life; heretofore he 'd been so busy applyin' salve that he did n't have time to find out just what was th' trouble with th' double harness. Lots of men feel that way, but they ain't got Pete's unlovely outspoken habit of thought. We used to reckon mebby he was n't as smart as th' rest of us, him bein' slow an' blunderin' in his retorts. We 've played that with coppers lots of times since, though. While he ain't what you 'd call quick at retortin', his retorts usually is heard by th' whole county. It ain't every collar-galled husband that's got th' gumption or smartness to jump th' minute th' hat is lifted. Pete had.
"He's drivin' across our range, an' when th' wind dies out sudden an' th' snow sifts down, he 's just smart enough to get out his beddin' an' wrap it around him till he looks like a bale of cotton. An' even at that he 's near froze an' lookin' for a place to make a stand when he feels a bump. It's me, fallin' off my cayuse, against his front wheel. He emerges from his beddin',
