in it. I slacked up, patting myself on the back; and, as the
trouble seemed all over, I was just about to turn for the ranch,
when I heard horses galloping, and as the moon came out a little I
saw a whole raft of redskins a-boiling up a draw not half a mile
away. That knocked me slab-sided. It looked like I got the wrong
ticket every time the wheel turned.

I whooped it up again, swearing I wouldn't stop this deal short of
a dead sure thing. We flew through space--Laddy pushing a hole in
the air like a scart kiyote making for home and mother.

A ways down the valley I spotted a little shack sitting all alone
by itself out in the moonlight. I headed for it, hollering murder.

A man came to the door in his under-rigging.

"Hi, there! What's eating you?" he yells.

"Injuns coming, pardner! The country's just oozing Injuns! Better
get a wiggle on you!"

"All right--slide along, I'll ketch up to you," says he.

I looked back and saw him hustling out with his saddle on his arm.
"He's a particular kind of cuss," I thought; "bareback would suit
most people."

Taking it a little easier for the next couple of miles, I gave him
a chance to pull up.

We pounded along without saying anything for a spell, when I
happened to notice that his teeth were chattering.

"Keep your nerve up, pardner!" says I. "Don't you get
scared--we've got a good start on 'em."

He looked at me kind of reproachful.

"Scared be derned!" says he. "I reckon if you was riding around
this nice cool night in your drawers, _your_ teeth 'ud rattle some,
too."

I took a look at him, and saw, sure enough, while he had hat, coat,
and boots on, the pants was missing. Well, if it had been the last
act, I'd have had to laugh.

"Couldn't find 'em nohow," says he; "hunted high and low, jick,
Jack, and the game--Just comes to my mind now that I had 'em rolled
up and was sleeping on 'em. I don't like to go around this way'--I
feel as if I was two men, and one of 'em hardly respectable."

"Did you bring a gun with you?"

He gave me another stare. "Why, pardner, you must think I have got
a light and frivolous disposition," says he, and with that he
heaves up the great-grand-uncle of all the six-shooters I ever did
see. It made my forty-five-long look like something for a kid to
cut its teeth on. "That's the best gun in this country," he went
on.

"Looks as if it might be," says I. "Has the foundry that cast it
gone out of business? I'd