oys
over later."

"Do you smoke?" asked Wade. "I've somethin' fine I fetched up from
Leadville."

"Smoke! Me? I'll give you a hoss right now for a cigar. I git one onct a
year, mebbe."

"Here's a box I've been packin' for long," replied Wade, as he handed it
up to Billings. "They're Spanish, all right. Too rich for my blood!"

A box of gold could not have made that cowboy's eyes shine any brighter.

"_Whoop-ee!_" he yelled. "Why, man, you're like the fairy in the kid's
story! Won't I make the outfit wild? Aw, I forgot. Thar's only Jim an'
Blud left. Wal, I'll divvy with them. Sure, Wade, you hit me right. I
was dyin' fer a real smoke. An' I reckon what's mine is yours."

Then he strode out of the cabin, whistling a merry cowboy tune.

Wade was left sitting in the middle of the room on his roll of bedding,
and for a long time he remained there motionless, with his head bent,
his worn hands idly clasped. A heavy footfall outside aroused him from
his meditation.

"Hey, Wade!" called the cheery voice of Belllounds. Then the rancher
appeared at the door. "How's this bunk suit you?"

"Much too fine for an old-timer like me," replied Wade.

"Old-timer! Say, you're young yet. Look at me. Sixty-eight last
birthday! Wal, every dog has his day.... What're you needin' to fix this
bunk comfortable like?"

"Reckon I don't need much."

"Wal, you've beddin' an' cook outfit. Go get a table, an' a chair an' a
bench from thet first cabin. The boys thet had it are gone. Somethin'
with a back to it, a rockin'-chair, if there's one. You'll find tools,
an' boxes, an' stuff in the workshop, if you want to make a cupboard or
anythin'."

"How about a lookin'-glass?" asked Wade. "I had a piece, but I broke
it."

"Haw! Haw! Mebbe we can rustle thet, too. My girl's good on helpin' the
boys fix up. Woman-like, you know. An' she'll fetch you some decorations
on her own hook. Now let's take a look at the hounds."

Belllounds led the way out toward the crude dog-corral, and the way he
leaped the brook bore witness to the fact that he was still vigorous and
spry. The door of the pen was made of boards hung on wire. As Belllounds
opened it there came a pattering rush of many padded feet, and a chorus
of barks and whines. Wade's surprised gaze took in forty or fifty dogs,
mostly hounds, browns and blacks and yellows, all sizes--a motley,
mangy, hungry pack, if he had ever seen one.

"I swore I'd buy every hound fetched to me, till I'd