Then he entertains himse'f an' Tom by p'radin' about with the sacks in his teeth, shakin' an' tossin' his head an' powderin' my 'Pride of Denver' all over the plains.

Which Jerry shore frosts that scenery plumb lib'ral.
"It's the next night an' I don't hobble Jerry; I pegs him out on a lariat.

What do you-all reckon now that miscreant does?
Corrupts pore Tom who you may be certain is sympathisin' 'round, an' makes Tom go to the waggons, steal the flour an' pack it out to him where he's pegged.
The soopine Tom, who otherwise is the soul of integrity, abstracts six sacks for his mate an' at daybreak the wretched Jerry's standin' thar, white as milk himse'f, an' flour a foot deep in a cirkle whereof the radius is his rope Tom's gazin' on Jerry in a besotted way like he allows he's certainly the greatest sport on earth.
"Which this last is too much an' I ropes up Jerry for punishment.

I throws an' hawgties Jerry, an' he's layin' thar on his side.

His eye is obdoorate an' thar's neither shame nor repentance in his heart.