Yu ask Billy who hid th' hat," suggested the tease.

"Here he comes now--see how queer he looks." "Th' mournful Piute," ejaculated the cook.

"I'll shore make him wish he'd kept on his own trail.

I'll flavor his slush [coffee] with year-old dish-rags!" At this juncture Billy ambled up, keeping his weather eye peeled for trouble.

"Who's a dish-rag ?" He queried.