THE TALE OF BRAZOS DICK
Dick gave them all a rest. But he didn't give it me. By the end of the year he knew as much about gettin' to "Yeurope" cheaply as I did.
"I ain't goin' by way of N'York," said Dick. "When the old man pulls his freight for another world,—and he says, poor ole Dad, that he's only waiting for the word 'Gee' to make a move,—I'll fix up with Sam Smith to run my place, and I'll hit the road for Noo Orl'ans and get aboard for England. If I hit N'York first I'm sadly afraid I'll stick there like as if I was in a sloo. There's a powerful draw in a big city, so there is. Now San Antone"
A month afterwards I was riding on the prairie by Wolf Creek, where the road from Snyder comes into town, and I saw Dick in the distance. He was clad in his best clothes and mesquite leggings, and had a new necktie on, a blazing red one with black spots on it, and wore a new cow-hat. When he saw me he let a yell out of him and came loping up joyfully.
"What luck!" said Brazos, "what luck!
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