window."

"Now, Jimmy! Oh, how do you do!" And Dorothy greeted Bartley with
considerable poise for a young woman who was as interested in the
Easterner as she was.

"Don't let us interrupt you," said Bartley. "Our business can wait."

Little Jim scowled, and grimaced at Dorothy, who excused herself to
Bartley and went on making her purchases. They were really insignificant
purchases--some pins, some thread, and a roll of binding tape.
Insignificant as they were, Bartley offered to carry them to the wagon
for her. Dorothy declined his offer and took them to the wagon herself.

"Now for that rifle," said Bartley.

Little Jim, itching all over to get hold of that new and shining weapon,
squirmed as Hodges took it from the window and handed it to Bartley.
Bartley examined it and passed it over to Little Jim.

"Is that the kind you wanted?" he asked.

"This is her! Twenty-two, long or short, genuwine repeater." Jimmy
pretended to read the tags tied to the trigger guard. "Yep! This is
her."

"And some cartridges," suggested Bartley.

"How many?" queried the storekeeper.

"All you got," said Little Jim.

But Bartley's good nature was not to be imposed upon to that extent.
"Give us five boxes, Mr. Hodges."

"That cleans me out of twenty-twos," declared Hodges.

Jimmy grinned triumphantly. Dorothy had come in and was viewing the
purchase with some apprehension. She knew Little Jim.

Bearing the rifle proudly, Jimmy marched from the store. Dorothy and
Bartley followed him, and Bartley briefly outlined Cheyenne's recent
sprightly exodus from San Andreas.

"I heard about it, from Mr. Hodges," said Dorothy. "And I also noticed
that you have hurt your hand."

Bartley glanced at his right hand--and then at Dorothy, who was gazing
at him curiously. It had become common news in town that Cheyenne
Hastings and the Easterner had engaged in a free-for-all fight with the
Sneed outfit, and that two of the Sneed boys were laid up for repairs.
That was Mr. Hodges' version.

"I also heard that you had left town," said Dorothy.

Bartley's egoism was slightly deflated. Then Dorothy had come to town to
buy a few trinkets, and not to find out how it fared with him.

"We have to get back before dark," she declared.

"And you got to drive," said Little Jim. "I want to try my new gun!"

"Did you thank Mr. Bartley for the gun?"

Little Jim admitted that he had forgotten to do so. He stuck out his
small hand. "Thanks, pardne