Chapter XV

SANDY'S TALE

“And so I'm proprietor of some knights,” said I, as we rode off. “Who would ever have supposed that I should live to list up assets of that sort. I shan't know what to do with them; unless I raffle them off. How many of them are there, Sandy?”

“Seven, please you, sir, and their squires.”

“It is a good haul. Who are they? Where do they hang out?”

“Where do they hang out?”

“Yes, where do they live?”

“Ah, I understood thee not. That will I tell eftsoons.” Then she said musingly, and softly, turning the words daintily over her tongue: “Hang they out--hang they out--where hang--where do they hang out; eh, right so; where do they hang out. Of a truth the phrase hath a fair and winsome grace, and is prettily worded withal. I will repeat it anon and anon in mine idlesse, whereby I may peradventure learn it. Where do they hang out. Even so! already it falleth trippingly from my tongue, and forasmuch as--”

“Don't forget the cowboys, Sandy.”

“Cowboys?”

“Yes; the knights, you know: You were going to tell me about them. A while back, you remember. Figuratively speaking, game's called.”

“Game--”

“Great Scott!”