hich, fleeting as it
was, Wallie caught, he made out a new check for fifty-six hundred.

Turning to Pinkey, Canby said: "I'll give you a hundred and fifty for
your horse."

Pinkey hesitated. It was a hundred more than it was worth.

"I guess not." Wallie's voice was curt. "I'm clairvoyant, Canby, and
I've read your thought. You can't stop payment by telephone, because
Pink is going to close-herd you right here until I ride to Prouty and
get this cashed."

Pinkey's jaw dropped.

"By the long-horn toads of Texas! I wouldn't 'a' thought of that in a
month!"

As Wallie put his foot into the stirrup for the first time his face
relaxed. He looked over his shoulder and grinned:

"If you listen, maybe you'll hear something making a noise like a dude
ranch, Pink."

CHAPTER XVI

THE EXODUS

Never had Mr. Cone put in such a summer! The lines in his forehead
looked as if they had been made with a harrow and there were times when
his eyes had the expression of a hunted animal. Pacifying disgruntled
guests was now as much a part of the daily routine as making out the
menus. In the halcyon days when a guest had a complaint, he made it
aside, delicately, as a suggestion. Now he made a point of dressing Mr.
Cone down publicly. In truth, baiting the landlord seemed to be in the
nature of a recreation with the guests of The Colonial. Threats to leave
were of common occurrence, and Mr. Cone longed to be once more in a
position to tell them calmly to use their own pleasure in the matter.
But what with high taxes, excessive wages, extensive improvements still
to be paid for, prudence kept him silent.

The only way in which he could explain the metamorphosis was that the
guests were imbued with the spirit of discontent that prevailed
throughout the world in the years following the war. The theory did not
make his position easier, however, nor alter the fact that he all but
fell to trembling when a patron approached to leave his key or get a
drink of ice water at the cooler.

As he lay awake wondering what next they would find to complain of, he
framed splendid answers, dignified yet stinging, but when the time came
to use them he remembered his expenses and his courage always failed
him.

In his heart, he felt that this could not go on forever--some day
someone would speak just the right word and he would surprise them. He
had come to listen with comparative equanimity to the statement that his
hotel was badly manag