Premise: You know, a fella who's scouted an' hunted Injuns an' popped bush cattle, to say nothin' of toppin' wild ones what can look like a nice quiet little pony one minute an' have a belly full of bedsprings an' a sky touchin' back th' next a fella who's had him all that kinda experience an' a saddlebag full of surprises in his time gits so he can smell a storm comin' 'fore th' first cloud shows.

Hypothesis: He can smell a storm coming before the first cloud shows.
Relation: entailment