“Take it er leave it.  But, ez I wuz goin’ ter say before my conversation was cut inter by a loud an’ empty noise, speakin’ o’ goats reminds me o’ a time down on ther Pecos—­”

“By Jove!  I’m going to ask the conductor to move me into another car.  This is too much.  I might, perhaps, stand for being called a phillaloo, but I swear I’ll not be compelled to stay here and listen to one of those silly and impossible stories of this insane cow-puncher.”

At first some of the passengers thought that Bud and Ben were really angry at one another, but the wise ones soon saw that it was all bluff, as, of course, the broncho boys knew.

But it was very real to Dick Fosdick, who had yet many things to learn about the boys and their ways, and while the little chap was far too clever naturally to show his feelings, he sided with Bud, and thought that Ben was very unreasonable, especially as the boys, and some of the passengers, had flocked around Bud, who appeared not to notice them.

“I reckon, Dick, you’d like ter hear thet thar story erbout the time I lied down on ther Pecos in the summer o’—­”

“Conductor,” said Ben, detaining that official as he was passing through the car, “is there no way of stopping the noise this person is making?  I cannot take my nap on account of his chatter.”

Several persons who were not in the secret were for interfering in behalf of Bud and his story, which they wanted to hear, but were headed off by the conductor, who said: 

“Sorry, but I cannot interfere with the gentleman.  He does not seem to be annoying the other passengers.  If you wish to take a nap you are at liberty to go up ahead in the smoking car.”

At this Bud began to gloat.

“I hear they’ve put a cattle car up next ter ther injine fer sech sensitive people like you.  Yer might enj’y a leetle siesta on ther straw.”

Ben sank back into his seat, and began to snore gently.

“What about the story down on the Pecos, Bud?” said Dick.

“You’d like to hear it, eh?  Then I’ll tell it to you.  Of course, the other folks may listen to it, but it is understood betwixt me an’ you thet it’s all yours, an’ whatever goes inter their ears is jest ther leavin’s.  Is that a go?”

The boy nodded eagerly, even though he didn’t understand the drift of Bud’s remarks.

“What’s the story about?” asked the boy.

“The goat, my boy.  Perhaps you don’t know it, but the goat is one of the noblest animals what walks.  He is also one o’ ther smartest, an’ in former years used ter be able ter talk, but ez soon ez he got ter be so popular in secret societies ther gift o’ speech was withdrawed from him, so thet he wouldn’t be able ter give erway ther secret things what he saw an’ heard at ther meetin’s.”

“But, Bud, are they really smart?” asked Dick.

“Smart ain’t no name fer it.  All yer got ter do to find out if they’re smart is ter look at their whiskers.  The smartest o’ all animiles is man, an’ don’t he wear whiskers?  An’ I want ter ast yer what other animile hez whiskers exceptin’ ther goat.  Ther goat knew what he was about when he begin ter raise whiskers.  He says ter hisself—­”