"Mules same as hosses; burros four bits a head to you." At the end of a week I had a remuda of probably two hundred animals.
We kept them over the hills in some "parks," as these sots call meadows in that country.

I rode into town and told Dutchy.
"Got them all ?" he asks.
"All but a cross-eyed buckskin that's mean, and the bay mare that Noah bred to." "Get them," says he.
"The bandits want too much," I explains.
"Get them anyway," says he.
I went away and got them.

It was scand'lous; such prices.
When I hit Cyanide again I ran into scenes of wild excitement.

The whole passel of them was on that one street of their'n, talkin' sixteen ounces to the pound.

In the middle was Dutchy, drunk as a soldier-just plain foolish drunk.
"Good Lord!" thinks I to myself, "he ain't celebratin' gettin' that bunch of buzzards, is he ?" But I found he wasn't that bad.