store on the
Nueces that he heard that Black Bill had been seen in Matamoras by a
sheepman's cousin two weeks ago.'

"'Tell you what I'll do, Tight Mouth,' says the captain, after looking
me over for bargains. 'If you put us on so we can scoop Black Bill, I'll
pay you a hundred dollars out of my own--out of our own--pockets. That's
liberal,' says he. 'You ain't entitled to anything. Now, what do you
say?'

"'Cash down now?' I asks.

"The captain has a sort of discussion with his helpmates, and they all
produce the contents of their pockets for analysis. Out of the general
results they figured up $102.30 in cash and $31 worth of plug tobacco.

"'Come nearer, capitan meeo,' says I, 'and listen.' He so did.

"'I am mighty poor and low down in the world,' says I. 'I am working for
twelve dollars a month trying to keep a lot of animals together whose
only thought seems to be to get asunder. Although,' says I, 'I regard
myself as some better than the State of South Dakota, it's a come-down
to a man who has heretofore regarded sheep only in the form of chops.
I'm pretty far reduced in the world on account of foiled ambitions and
rum and a kind of cocktail they make along the P. R. R. all the way from
Scranton to Cincinnati--dry gin, French vermouth, one squeeze of a lime,
and a good dash of orange bitters. If you're ever up that way, don't
fail to let one try you. And, again,' says I, 'I have never yet went
back on a friend. I've stayed by 'em when they had plenty, and when
adversity's overtaken me I've never forsook 'em.

"'But,' I goes on, 'this is not exactly the case of a friend. Twelve
dollars a month is only bowing-acquaintance money. And I do not consider
brown beans and corn-bread the food of friendship. I am a poor man,'
says I, 'and I have a widowed mother in Texarkana. You will find Black
Bill,' says I, 'lying asleep in this house on a cot in the room to your
right. He's the man you want, as I know from his words and conversation.
He was in a way a friend,' I explains, 'and if I was the man I once was
the entire product of the mines of Gondola would not have tempted me to
betray him. But,' says I, 'every week half of the beans was wormy, and
not nigh enough wood in camp.

"'Better go in careful, gentlemen,' says I. 'He seems impatient at
times, and when you think of his late professional pursuits one would
look for abrupt actions if he was come upon sudden.'

"So the whole posse unmounts and ties their hor