Page:The Trail Rider (1924).pdf/21

 from the South, primarily, even though Topeka just now. Uncle Boley nodded.

"From Texas, I 'low?"

"Yes, sir; I was bornd and raised in Taixas."

"What might they call you where you come from, son?"

"Why, they call me Taixas, sir—Taixas Hartwell, James or Jim christened, if you prefer it, sir."

"Texas suits me all right. Them two names goes together handy, too—easy to say—Texas Hartwell. Jimses and James is too thick already in this man's country; yes, and jim-jamses, too."

"Yes, sir."

Uncle Boley worked at the seam until he had used up the thread in the leather, then took the extra waxed-end out of his mouth and put the boot aside. He took up one of the crippled shoes, turned it, examined it, as if he had come across some curiosity in the shoemaker's art.

"You must 'a' done a sight of walkin' in them shoes."

"I have walked a right smart little stretch in 'em, sir."

"I don't reckon all the way from Topeky?"

"Not all the way, sir."

Uncle Boley hammered at the new lift of heel that he was laying on, brads in his mouth, a smudge