first.

"Try it," he urged. "Here's one from a different case. Some of these
yere vintages is better than others."

"So I've noticed," replied Bill, dryly. He glanced at the bottom and
slipped it into his pocket.

We went out. As we passed the door Bill, unobserved, dropped into the
heretofore unexplained waste-basket the yard of calico he had just
purchased.

"Don't believe I like the pattern for my boudoir," he told me, gravely.

We clambered aboard and shot our derisive exhaust at the diminishing
town.

"Thought Arizona was a dry state," I suggested.

"She is. You cain't sell a drop. But you can keep stuff for personal
use. There ain't nothing more personal than givin' it away to your
friends."

"The price of calico is high down here."

"And goin' up," agreed Bill, gloomily. He drove ten miles in silence
while I, knowing my type, waited.

"That old Billings ought to be drug out and buried," he remarked at
last. "We rode together on the Chiracahua range. He ought to know better
than to try to put it onto me."

"???" said I.

"You saw that first bottle? Just plain forty-rod dog poison--and me
payin' three good round dollars!"

"For calico," I reminded.

"Shore. That's why he done it. He had me--if I hadn't called him."

"But that first bottle was identically the same as the one you have in
your pocket," I stated.

"Shore?"

"Why, yes--at least--that is, the bottle and label were the same, and I
particularly noticed the cork seal looked intact."

"It was," agreed Bill. "That cap hasn't never been disturbed. You're
right."

"Then what objection----"

"It's one of them wonders of modern science that spoils the simple life
next to Nature's heart," said Bill, unexpectedly. "You hitch a big
hollow needle onto an electric light current. When she gets hot enough
you punch a hole with her in the bottom of the bottle. Then you throw
the switch and let the needle cool off. When she's cool you pour out the
real thing for your own use--mebbe. Then you stick in your
forty-cent-a-gallon squirrel poison. Heat up your needle again. Draw her
out very slow so the glass will close up behind her. Simple, neat,
effective, honest enough for down here. Cork still there, seal still
there, label still there. Bottle still there, except for a little bit of
a wart-lookin' bubble in the bottom."

It was now in the noon hour. Knowing cowboys of old I expected no lunch.
We racketed along, and our dust tried to catch us,