ought
to waked, yu' see, but I slep' and slep', and kep' yu' from meetin' your
engagements, yu' see--for you couldn't go, of course. A man couldn't
treat a man that way now, could he?"

"Course he couldn't," said Billy, brightening.

"And they wouldn't wait, yu' see. They wouldn't fool away Christmas,
that only comes onced a year, kickin' their heels and sayin' 'Where's
Billy?' They'd say, 'Bill has sure made other arrangements, which he'll
explain to us at his leesyure.' And they'd skip with the cigars."

The advocate paused, effectively, and from his bolster regarded Billy
with a convincing eye.

"That's so," said Billy.

"And where would yu' be then, Bill? In the street, out of friends, out
of Christmas, and left both ways, no tobaccer and no flapjacks. Now,
Bill, what do yu' say to us putting up a Christmas deal together? Just
you and me?"

"I'd like that," said Billy. "Is it all day?"

"I was thinkin' of all day," said Lin. "I'll not make yu' do anything
yu'd rather not."

"Ah, they can smoke without me," said Billy, with sudden acrimony. "I'll
see 'em to-morro'."

"That's you!" cried Mr. McLean. "Now, Bill, you hustle down and tell
them to keep a table for us. I'll get my clothes on and follow yu'."

The boy went, and Mr. McLean procured hot water and dressed himself,
tying his scarf with great care. "Wished I'd a clean shirt," said he.
"But I don't look very bad. Shavin' yesterday afternoon was a good
move." He picked up the arrow-head and the kinni-kinnic, and was
particular to store them in his safest pocket. "I ain't sure whether
you're crazy or not," said he to the man in the looking-glass. "I ain't
never been sure." And he slammed the door and went down-stairs.

He found young Bill on guard over a table for four, with all the chairs
tilted against it as warning to strangers. No one sat at any other table
or came into the room, for it was late, and the place quite emptied of
breakfasters, and the several entertained waiters had gathered behind
Billy's important-looking back. Lin provided a thorough meal, and Billy
pronounced the flannel cakes superior to flapjacks, which were not upon
the bill of fare.

"I'd like to see you often," said he. "I'll come and see you if you
don't live too far."

"That's the trouble," said the cow-puncher. "I do. Awful far." He stared
out of the window.

"Well, I might come some time. I wish you'd write me a letter. Can you
write?" "What's that? Can I write? Oh