COPYRIGHT 1938 THE NAYLOR COMPANY stee, gift 1305029 - 596 pq 1938 DEDICATED TO THE RANGERS OF COMMERCE--SALESMEN FOREWORD Successful selling is based on Common Sense which is synonymous with Horse Sense. How- ever, few will dispute that horse sense isn't common. Even a small booklet must have a title. A good title suggests the nature of its contents. Therefore, we have entitled this booklet “Horse Sense Ain't Common." The reader will find an uncommon amount of horse sense hidden in these conversations of the "Old Cowhand.” THE NAYLOR COMPANY “ACCORDIN' TO MATTHEW” you take over the Lazy D, and you, Sam Lukins, go down to the Clawhammer and handle it. Maw and me are goin' to Califor- nia and spend a year visitin' our daughter Em while I rest up. You men run them ranches just like they was your'n and don't bother me about the details. When I get back you can tell me what you did.” Buck got back more'n a year later 'cause the lumbago throwed him about the time he was due to light a shuck and hobbled him for a spell. Len Stevens rode in to make his report and said, “Boss, them 5,000 B-B cows you turned over to me done right well and I got me in some record bulls and the range is full stocked. The Stockman's Bank has got $25,000.00 bear- in' your mark.” "Not bad,” said Buck. “Stick round; I'll talk to you later." Ben Higgins was next in to say his piece. “Buck, the Lazy D sure done herself proud last year and you're going to like the way I handled her. Two thousand head was the tally when I took her over. The day I left it was 2,500 and I'd sold off enough to pay everything and everybody up slick and clean with $2,000.00 over. I was tempted to buy some registered bulls from up in the Pan- handle but figgered you'd rather I'd save the money so I held the old bulls over." o took", thousano likerself procco Light a shuck-travel rapidly. Hobbled-tied his legs. HORSE SENSE AIN'T COMMON That night while Buck was swappin' lies with some of the other fellers, Sam and me snuck off to the Longhorn Bar. We was feelin' low and lonesome and thought some beer would cheer us up. Purty soon in come a half-pint size feller. He was wearin' 'bout two bits worth of hickory shirt and overalls and was barefoot. He was well oiled and talky. "My name's Ludy. I'm the bait man. You may think it's the likker talkin' but I ain't no sap and I know my onions,” was his opener. "Squat,” says I, "and have some beer." He done so and between drinks told us 'bout his business, which 'till then I didn't know there was any such business. "When I lit in this port,” he said, "they was five fellers here claimin' to be bait mén. Them boat fellers have to furnish the dudes bait with the boats. They're too lazy to get it for theirselves, so they got to buy it from a bait man. Them other five fellers didn't know their onions and they wa'nt dependable. Some days they didn't know where to find bait; other days they got so likkered up they couldn't find any. Sides that, getting bait is a lot of wear and tear on the bones and no feller with lead in his pants makes a good bait man. Now take me, I can handle my likker, and when I get my tank just so full, I go out baitin'. None of them boat fellers ever lose Two bits-twenty-five cents. 14 “THIS is God's COUNTRY" ruined. They laid me in the shade of a big sign board. After a spell I began to take notice and read the sign which had words most fittin'. “This is God's Country. Don't drive through it like Hell!” Bout sundown next day they got our rig straightened out ready to roll. When we lit at the B-B that feeder buyer had come and gone. Buck 'lowed his rulin' motter hencefor- wards is “Haste makes waste.” Tellin' Dany Greely 'bout it I asked had he noted how folks was stampedin' these times. He 'lowed he had. “Even the drummers that comes by to sell me goods is in such a rush they dassent linger long 'nuff for me to make up my mind to buy. Such hurried travelers I accommodates by tellin' 'em quick and final, I don't need none. That let's 'em drive off conscience clear and speed unlimited. If I had my way the herd of 'em would be bored for the simples and have their speed glands cut out. I'm plumb honin' for an old-fashioned drummin' by a feller that takes out time to warm me up afore he propositions me to come across.” Since I was knee high to a prairie dog I've knowed tossin' a rope 'fore buildin' a loop or Buildin' a loop-shaking a lasso loop open. HORSE SENSE AIN'T COMMON tryin' to run a brand with a cold iron don't save no time nor get the job done. Now I'm plumb sure it don't pay to try to get where you're goin' ahead of your shadder. So long, I got to hobble on. THIS IS GOD'S COUNTRY DON'T DRIVE THROUGH IT LIKE HELL! 24 HORSE SENSE AIN'T COMMON pit breakin' diamonds. Front shack bend- in' rails to head in. Con in dog-house flippin' tissue. Hind shack beatin' it back with the red.” “Okay” rattles back, "tell Cactus con to highball in his report." Bill Bryan set the prairies afire in '96 with his oratin'. "A full dinner pail” elected McKinley. Wilson got his second term with the words, "He kept us out of war.” One word, “Economy” swung the vote to Cal Coolidge. Now the best word rider of 'em all, come in straddlin' “The forgotten man.” Scowlin' when he says it, one feller calls nother a self made so and so. They's smoke follers them words. Smilin' and back pattin' the feller he's namin', 'nother jasper says "You're an old same thing," and they has a'nother round of drinks. Over to the Centennial I seen a dingus rig- ged up out of iron to look like a man, actin' up most life like and doin' what the feller bossin' him said do. This feller called him Mister Robot and used up lots of words to tell the why and how of it. Out of 'em I Diamonds-coal. Shack-brakeman. Bendin' rails—throwing the switch. Con--conductor. Doghouse-cupola on caboose. Flippin' tissue-reading orders. Highball-rush through. Smoke-shooting. "HAND FEEDIN' DOGIES" folks, they're going to turn her round.” You never seen such a stampede in all your borned days. One fall Buck Barkley comin' back from a shippin' trip to Ft. Worth brung back a paper poke of grapes. Stoppin' at the Blue Front he set it on the bar, which was wet. The poke soaked through and when he come to go its bottom busted out, spillin' them grapes in the sawdust. The boys tromped the skins off 'em. 'Fore long a tenderfoot rode up, lit and come in. He took note of them squashed grapes and wanted to know what they was. Polk spoke up prompt, “Stranger, we jest wound up a free for all ruckus in here and them's gouged out eyeballs you see.” 'Nother time Polk 'lowed to me, “They's two things I wants to see 'fore I cash in my chips. One's a gray, new-born colt and t’other is a white mule dead." He couldn't catch me on the colt gag 'cause I knows all gray hosses is foaled with dark first hair. 'Bout the dead white mule I said, "I ain't never seen none but I knows a feller as has.” Polk went off grinnin' like a basket of possum heads and singin' low, just loud 'nuff for me to catch the words, “My father had an old white mule, That old white mule he died, It may be so, but I don't know, I think somebody's lied.” Poke-sack.