"Where were you educated? I don't think
that I have heard you say."
"I have no education," returned the young man, with a laugh that, to
Patches, sounded a bitter note. "I'm just a common cow-puncher, that's
all."
"I beg your pardon," returned the other, "but I thought from the books
you mentioned--"
"Oh, the books! Why, you see, some four years ago a real,
honest-to-goodness book man came out to this country for his health, and
brought his disease along with him."
"His disease?" questioned Patches.
Phil smiled. "His books, I mean. They killed him, and I fell heir to
his trouble. He was a good fellow, all right--we all liked him--might
have been a man if he hadn't been so much of a scholar. I was curious,
at first, just to see what it was that had got such a grip on him; and
then I got interested myself. About that time, too, there was a reason
why I thought it might be a good thing for me; so I sent for more, and
have made a fairly good job of it in the past three years. I don't think
that there's any danger, though, of the habit getting the grip on me
that it had on him," he reflected with a whimsical grin.
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