voices in melody!' That was one of Ag's delusions--he thought he
could sing. So four of 'em got on top of a billiard table and
presented 'Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep' to the company, which
made me feel glad that I hadn't been brought up that way. After Ag
had hip-locked the last low note, another song-bird volunteered.

"This was a little fat Dutchman, with pale blue eyes and a mustache
like two streaks of darning cotton. He had come to town to sell a
pair of beef-steers, but got drawn into the general hilarity, and
now he didn't care a cuss whether he, she, or it ever sold another
steer. He got himself on end and sung 'Leeb Fadderlont moxtrue
eckstein' in a style that made you wonder that the human nose could
stand the strain.

"'Aw, cheese that!' says a feller near the door. 'Come get your
steers, one of 'em's just chased the barber up a telegraph pole!'

"So then we all piled out into the street to see the steers. Sure
enough, there was the barber, sitting on the cross-piece, and the
steer pawing dirt underneath.

"'He done made me come a fast heat from de cohner,' says the
barber. 'I kep' hollerin' "next!" but he ain't pay no 'tention--he
make it "next" fur me, shuah! Yah, yah, yah! You gents orter seen
me start at de bottom, an' slide all de way up disyer telegraft
pole!'

"One of the bull-whackers went out to rope the steers, and Ag gave
directions from the sidewalk. He wasn't very handy with a riata,
and that's a fact, but the way Ag lit into him was scandalous.