y when I saw him last. Who pays for the drinks?"

"I do, you darned ol' Piute," shouted Reeves joyously. "I never will
forget how the sky pilot's coat-tails spread. You could 'a' played
checkers on 'em. D'you reckon we'd ought to send a wreckin' crew after
Melancthon T. Browning?"

"Why, no. The way he was clamped to that Blue Streak's back you couldn't
pry him loose with a crowbar."

"Here he c-comes now," Blister announced.

When the home missionary reached the hotel he found a grave and decorous
group of sympathizers.

"I was surely right careless, sir, to start thataway so onexpected," Dud
apologized. "I hope you didn't get jounced up much."

"Some one had ought to work you over for bein' so plumb wooden-haided,
Dud," the puncher from the Keystone reproved him. "Here was Mr. Browning
ridin' along quiet an' peaceable, figurin' out how he could improve us
Rio Blanco savages, an' you come rip-rarin' along an' jar up all his
geography by startin' that fool horse of his'n."

Dud hung his head. "Tha's right. It was sure enough thoughtless of me,"
he murmured.

The preacher looked at the offender severely. He did not yet feel quite
equal to a fitting reprimand. "You see the evil effects of letting that
vile stuff pass your lips. I hope this will be a lesson to you, young
man. If I had not kept my presence of mind I might have been thrown and
severely injured."

"Yes, sir," agreed Dud in a small, contrite voice.

"Makin' the preacher race on Sunday, too," chided Reeves. "Why, I
shouldn't wonder but what it might get out an' spread scandalous. We'll
all have to tell folks about it so's they'll get the right of it."

Melancthon squirmed. He could guess how the story would be told. "We'll
say no more about it, if you please. The young man is sorry. I forgive
him. His offense was inadvertent even though vexatious. If he will profit
by this experience I will gladly suffer the incommodious ride."

After the missionary had gone and the bet been liquidated, Blister drew
Hollister to one side. "I'm guessin' that when you get back to the ranch
you'll find a new rider in the bunkhouse, Dud."

The puncher waited. He knew this was preliminary matter.

"That young fellow Bob Dillon," explained the fat man.

"If you're expectin' me to throw up my hat an' shout, Blister, I got to
disappoint you," Dud replied. "I like 'em man-size."

"I'm p-puttin' him in yore charge."

"You ain't either," the range-rider repudiated indi