-eyed man, lazily arising and approaching him.
"One dollar, now."

"An' take the rocks outen that bed--I want to sleep."

"A dollar per for every rock you find," grinned Stevenson, pleasantly.
"There ain't no rocks in _my_ beds," he added.

"Some folks likes to be rocked to sleep," facetiously remarked one of
the pair by the wall, laughing contentedly at his own pun. He bore all
the ear-marks of being regarded as the wit of the locality--every hamlet
has one; I have seen some myself.

"Hee, hee, hee! Yo're a droll feller, Charley," chuckled Old John
Ferris, rubbing his ear with unconcealed delight. "That's a good un."

"One drink, now," growled Hopalong, mimicking the proprietor, and
glaring savagely at the "droll feller" and his companion. "An' mind that
it's a good one," he admonished the host.

"It's better," smiled Stevenson, whereat Old John crossed his legs and
chuckled again. Stevenson winked.

"Riding long?" he asked.

"Since I started."

"Going fur?"

"Till I stop."

"Where do you belong?" Stevenson's pique was urging him against the
ethics of the range, which forbade personal questions.

Hopalong looked at him with a light in his eye that told the host he had
gone too far. "Under my sombrero!" he snapped.

"Hee, hee, hee!" chortled Old John, rubbing his ear again and nudging
Charley. "He ain't no fool, hey?"

"Why, I don't know, John; he won't tell," replied Charley.

Hopalong wheeled and glared at him, and Charley, smiling uneasily, made
an appeal: "Ain't mad, are you?"

"Not yet," and Hopalong turned to the bar again, took up his liquor
and tossed it off. Considering a moment he shoved the glass back again,
while Old John tongued his lips in anticipation of a treat. "It is
good--fill it again."

The third was even better and by the time the fourth and fifth had
joined their predecessors Hopalong began to feel a little more cheerful.
But even the liquor and an exceptionally well-cooked supper could not
separate him from his persistent and set grouch. And of liquor he had
already taken more than his limit. He had always boasted, with truth,
that he had never been drunk, although there had been two occasions when
he was not far from it. That was one doubtful luxury which he could not
afford for the reason that there were men who would have been glad to
see him, if only for a few seconds, when liquor had dulled his brain and
slowed his speed of hand. He could never tell when and where he mi