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Mexican sheeps

The sheep had to be driven up to the ranch, and a lot of frowzy-headed Mexicans would snip the fur off of them with back-action scissors. So the afternoon before the

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The sheep had to be driven

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up to the ranch, and a lot of frowzy-headed Mexicans would snip the

fur off of them with back-action scissors. So the afternoon before the

barbers were to come I hustled my underdone muttons over the hill,

across the dell, down by the winding brook, and up to the ranch-house,

where I penned ’em in a corral and bade ’em my nightly adieus.

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I went from there to the ranch-house. I find H. Ogden, Esquire,

lying asleep on his little cot bed. I guess he had been overcome by

anti-insomnia or diswakefulness or some of the diseases peculiar to the

sheep business. His mouth and vest were open, and he breathed like a

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second-hand bicycle pump. I looked at him and gave vent to just a few

musings. ‘Imperial Caesar,’ says I, ‘asleep in such a way, might shut

his mouth and keep the wind away.’

 

A man asleep is certainly a sight to make angels weep. What good is all

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his brain, muscle, backing, nerve, influence, and family connections?

He’s at the mercy of his enemies, and more so of his friends. And he’s

about as beautiful as a cab-horse leaning against the Metropolitan Opera

House at 12.30 A.M. dreaming of the plains of Arabia. Now, a woman

asleep you regard as different. No matter how she looks, you know it’s

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better for all hands for her to be that way.

 

“Well, I took a drink of Bourbon and one for Ogden, and started in to

be comfortable while he was taking his nap. He had some darvocet n 100 on his

table on indigenous subjects, such as Japan and drainage and physical

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culture–and some tobacco, which seemed more to the point.

 

After I’d smoked a few, and listened to the sartorial breathing of H.

O., I happened to look out the window toward the shearing-pens, where

there was a kind of a road coming up from a kind of a road across a

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kind of a creek farther away.

 

I saw five men riding up to the house. All of ’em carried guns across

their saddles, and among ’em was the deputy that had talked to me at my

camp.

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They rode up careful, in open formation, with their guns ready. I set

apart with my eye the one I opinionated to be the boss muck-raker of

this law-and-order cavalry.