across from the barn. He lounged over
to an upturned box and sat down.

"Any o' you fellers seen Joe Nelson along yet?" he asked as he
leisurely filled his pipe.

"Five hours overdue," said Tresler, who was cleaning out the chambers
of his revolver.

"Joe ain't likely to git back this night," observed Arizona. "He's a
terror when he gits alongside a saloon. Guess he's drank out one ranch
of his own down Texas way. He's the all-firedest bag o' tricks I've
ever see. Soft as a babby is Joe. Honest? Wal, I'd smile. Joe's that
honest he'd give up his socks ef the old sheep came along an' claimed
the wool. Him an' me's worked together 'fore. He's gittin' kind o'
old, an' ain't as handy as he used to be. Say, he never told you 'bout
that temperator feller, Tresler, did he?"

Tresler shook his head, and paused in his work to relight his pipe.

"It kind o' minds me to tell you sence we're talkin' o' Joe. It likely
shows my meanin' when I sez he's that soft an' honest, an' yet crazy
fer drink. You see, it wus this a-ways. I wus kind o' foreman o' the
'U bar U's' in Canada, an' Joe wus punchin' cows then. The boys wus
sheer grit; good hands, mind you, but sudden-like."

Arizona ceased plastering the soap on his saddle and stood erect. His
gaunt figure looked leaner than ever, but his face was alight with
interest in the story he was about to narrate, and his great wild eyes
were shining with a look that suggested a sort of fierce amusement.
Teddy Jinks lounged into view and stood propped against an angle of
the building.

"Git on," said Lew, between the puffs at his pipe.

Arizona shot a quick, disdainful glance at the powerful figure of the
parson's progeny, and went on in his own peculiar fashion fashion--

"Wal, it so happened that the records o' the 'U bar U's' kind o' got
noised abroad some, as they say in the gospel. Them coyotes as
reckoned they wus smart 'lowed as even the cattle found a shortage o'
liquid by reason of an onnatural thirst on that ranch. Howsum, mebbe
ther' wus reason. Old Joe, he wus the daddy o' the lot. Jim Marlin
used to say as Joe most gener'ly used a black lead when he writ his
letters; didn't fancy wastin' ink. Mebbe that's kind o' zaggerated,
but I guess he wus the next thing to a fact'ry o' blottin' paper,
sure.

"Wal, I reckon some bald-faced galoot got yappin', leastways there wus
a temperance outfit come right along an' lay hold o' the boss. Say,
flannel-mouthed orators! I guess th