"
The cowboy's jaw dropped, his mouth opened in gaping awe, and he looked
from the professor to Phil and Kitty, as if silently appealing to them
to verify this startling thing which he had heard. "You don't say!" he
murmured at last in innocent admiration. "Well, now, to think of a
little feller like you a-bein' all that! But jest what be them there
esteticks what you're professor of--if you don't mind my askin'?"
The distinguished scholar answered promptly, in his best platform voice,
"The science or doctrine of the nature of beauty and of judgments of
tastes."
At this, Stranger, with a snort of fear, stood straight up on his hind
legs, and Professor Parkhill scuttled to a position of safety behind
Phil.
"Excuse me, folks," said Patches. "I'm just naturally obliged to 'tend
to this here thing what thinks he's a hoss. Come along, you ornery,
pigeon-toed, knock-kneed, sway-backed, wooly-haired excuse, you. You
ain't got no more manners 'n a measly coyote."
The famous professor of aesthetics stood with Phil and Kitty watching
Patches as that gentleman relieved the dancing bay of the saddle, and
led him away through the corrals to the gate leading into the meadow
pasture.
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