don't
calc'late he's holdin' any conversazione with Fyles and his crew."
O'Brien's amusement had spread to his features, and Bill found himself
wondering as to what internal trouble he was suffering from. "Charlie
Bryant, bein' a rancher, guess he's roundin' up a bunch of 'strays.'
Y'see, he's got a few greenback stock he's mighty pertickler about.
They was last seen around that pine."

Bill stared.

"Greenbacked--cattle?" he exclaimed incredulously.

O'Brien laughed outright, and Bill was no longer left in doubt as to
his malady.

"They're a fancy breed," the saloonkeeper declared, "and kind of rare
hereabouts. They come from Ottawa way. The States breed 'em, too.
Guess I'll say good night."

Bill was left with no alternative but to take his departure, for
O'Brien, with scant courtesy, extinguished the light overhead and
crossed to the second lamp. His visitor made for the door, and, as he
reached it, a flash of inspiration came to him. This man was making
fun of him, of his inexperience. Of course. He was half inclined to
get angry, but changed his mind, and, instead, turned with a
good-natured laugh as he reached the door.

"I see," he cried. "You mean dollars, eh? Charlie's collecting some
dollars--some one owes him? For the moment I thought you were talking
of cattle--greenbacked cattle. Guess you surely have the laugh on me."

O'Brien nodded.

"That's so," he admitted, and Bill closed the door behind him as the
saloonkeeper extinguished the second lamp.

Big Brother Bill hurried away in the darkness. He swung along with
long, powerful strides that roused dull echoes as he moved down the
wide, wood-lined trail. It seemed to him that he had been wandering
around the village for hours, the place was growing so ridiculously
familiar.

Nor was it until he reached the spot where the trail divided that
he realized what a perfect fool the saloonkeeper had made of him.
It always took a long time for such things to filter through his
good-natured brain. Now, however, he grew angry--really very angry,
and, for a moment, even considered the advisability of turning back to
tell the man what he thought of him.

After a few moments' consideration better counsel prevailed, and he
continued on his way, his thoughts filled with a great pity for a mind
so small as to delight in such a cheap sort of humor. No doubt it was
his own fault. Somehow or other he generally managed to impress people
with the conviction that h