Jo.

"Not for me," said Jim briefly, "I want moccasins. Worn 'em all my life,
and I am not going to change to boots now."

"Fine line of moccasins," said the accommodating Mr. Gonsalves in his
best trade manner. You see he had been in business in San Francisco and
knew something of the ways of customers.

"But it gives us more style to wear boots. You notice that all the
inhabitants wear them, we can buy moccasins too. You wear them all the
time and they will set you down for an Indian."

"When a fellow once gets the idea of style in his head," said Jim
resignedly, "nothing this side of matrimony is going to stop him. So lay
on MacDuff and cursed be he who first cries hold, enough."

"I feel like I was anchored," commented Jim, stepping across the floor
with heavy tread. "I should like to stalk a deer or an Indian in these
things. He could tell you were arriving before you got above the
horizon."

"But you look fine in 'em," said Jo.

It was true that he made a striking figure in his blue togs. The lithe
powerful physique, and the strong, resolute face.

"Better look out, Jo," grinned Jim. "No Senorita would look at you, when
they see me dashing over the landscape."

"I'm a pretty stylish looking guy myself," responded Jo, confidently. He
did make a good appearance, there was no doubt of that. Though slighter
than his brother he was well set up, and his frame was well muscled. He
was handsomer than Jim. But there was no nonsense about either of the
two boys and they never gave an unnecessary thought to their appearance.

"Now, Mr. Gonsalves," said Jim, "we would like to look at some of your
man-killers."

"Revolvers?" he questioned, "just step this way. I can fit you out all
right."

He did have a fine collection and Jim examined the different ones
carefully, noting their action and how easily they worked.

"I see you are no tenderfoot," complimented the proprietor. "You have
handled shooting irons before."

"I'll be a tenderfoot before long, if I wear these condemned boots you
sold me," said Jim gruffly ignoring the compliment. He did not care
especially for M. Gonsalves' style. "Now let's have a look at your
rifles." The proprietor actually took off his hat and bowed.

It was evident that the distinguished gentlemen from nowhere in
particular were going to buy out his entire stock.

"Would you be so gracious as to step this way?" he said, "I have the
rifles in the back of the store."

They were s