uncles. You can set in young bein' a uncle, and keep it up as long as you live."
"Yes, sir; you sure enough can, sir."
They were back in Uncle Boley's shop, and the old man was smoking his pipe, the day's work being done. Uncle Boley had insisted that Texas accept the boots from him as an appreciation of the pleasure the afternoon's adventures had given him. The old man said he didn't think it was quite decent for a gentleman to go around in shoes, for a person couldn't tell where his body ended and his legs began in that foot-gear.
Texas had accepted the gift gratefully, and now he sat with his feet crossed, with something in his eyes that looked like pride to Uncle Boley, as he regarded the neat insteps and handsomely quilted tops.
"Have you got a gun, Texas?" The old man turned a shrewd eye on him, his pipestem stayed two inches from his mouth.
"No, sir, I haven't got a gun right now."
The old man smoked a little while, a look of wise contemplation in his benevolent face.
"Yes, I'd git one right away to-night if I was you. Mebbe two."
"Do you suppose I'll have any urgent need for a gun, sir?"
"Well, Texas, I wouldn't be surprised if you did.
