"Kidding, stringing, stuffing, jollying along, blowing east wind,
turning on the gas," says I. "'Spoofing' is University English. They
don't use slang over there, you know."

"Well, then, I spoofed him," said Petey, grinning. "He said it was
remarkable how very few revolvers he had seen, and then he wanted to
know why there was no shooting on the train with so much disorder. He's
pretty well posted now. I'd go a mile out of my way to help a poor dumb
chap like him. I told him this was the Y. M. C. A. section of Siwash and
that the real rough students were coming along on horseback. I said they
weren't allowed on the trains because they were so fatal to passengers.
I informed him that all the profs at Siwash went armed, and that the
course of study consisted of mining, draw poker, shooting from the hip,
broncho-busting, sheep-shearing, History of Art, bread-making and
Evidences of Christianity."

"Did he admit by that time that you were a good, free-handed liar?" I
asked.

"Admit nothing," said Petey; "he took it all down in his notebook and
remarked that in a wild country like this, remote from civilization, a
knowledge of bread-making would undoubtedly be invaluable to a man."

"He was spoofing you," says I.

"He wasn't," said Petey; "he thinks he's a thousand miles from a plug
hat this minute. He's so interested he is going to stop over for a day
or two and write up the college for his magazine. I've invited him to
stay at the Eta Bita Pie House with us, and we're going to show him a
real Wild West school if we have to shoot blank cartridges at the cook
to do it."

"Petey," said I solemnly, "some day you'll bump an asteroid when you go
up in the air like this. This friend of yours will take one look at
Siwash and ask you if Sapphira is feeling well these days."

"Bet you five, my opera hat, a good mandolin and a meal ticket on Jim's
place against your dress suit," said Petey promptly. "And you better not
take it, either."

"Done!" says I. "I bet you my hunting-case suit against your earthly
possessions that you can't tow old Britannia-rules-the-waves around
Siwash for a day without disclosing the fact that you are the best
catch-as-catch-can liar in this section of the solar system."

"All right," said Petey. "But you've got to help me win the stuff. This
is a great big contract. It's going to be my masterpiece, and I need
help."

"I'm with you clear to Faculty meeting, as usual," says I. "But what's
the