"--so nothing but her lungs came between you. And next you'd most
got united with Cattle Kate, only--"

"Tell you you're a false alarm!"

"--only she got hung."

"Where's the wives in all this? Show the wives! Come now!"

"That corn-fed biscuit-shooter at Rawlins yu' gave the canary--"

"Never married her. Never did marry--"

"But yu' come so near, uncle! She was the one left yu' that
letter explaining how she'd got married to a young cyard-player
the very day before her ceremony with you was due, and--"

"Oh, you're nothing; you're a kid; you don't amount to--"

"--and how she'd never, never forgot to feed the canary."

"This country's getting full of kids," stated the old man,
witheringly. "It's doomed." This crushing assertion plainly
satisfied him. And he blinked his eyes with renewed anticipation.
His tall tormentor continued with a face of unchanging gravity,
and a voice of gentle solicitude: "How is the health of that
unfortunate--"

"That's right! Pour your insults! Pour 'em on a sick, afflicted
woman!" The eyes blinked with combative relish.