Y' see, we can't fill all your dad's r'quir'munts, so I'm callin' on Walt t' sort o' help out with th' balance." Dan looked impressively at Whitey, who didn't understand much of what he was talking about, and didn't care about anything he was to do, he was so glad to get away from the T Up and Down.
"This'll take you out of your way a bit," Dan went on, "but you won't have t' cross th' Zumbro, an' I'll send back that hoss you borrowed from Cal Smith, by one o' the hands.

An' I'll lend you one o' my nags t' take you as far as Willer Bend, where you c'n get another mount.

Little Thompson'll go that far with you, an' from there on th' goin's straight." So, on the borrowed horse, and with the letter sewed inside his shirt, Whitey set forth with Little Thompson, the tall, thin, solemn cowboy who had sung the dismal songs.

And glad as he was to leave, Whitey regretted that he did not have a more cheerful companion.

For Little's idea of entertainment was to talk about funerals.
He seemed to have enjoyed going to them greatly, and described each individual one at length.