e group watched him expectantly. As
he struck a note each member of his audience jumped back in surprise at
the sound. Fresno scratched his head and gingerly fingered another
key. After several false starts, backing and filling, over the
keyboard, he began to pick out with one finger the air "The Suwanee
River."

"That's it. Now we're started," he cried exultantly.

His overconfidence led him to strike a false note.

"Excuse me," he apologized. "Got the copper on the wrong chip."

Once more he essayed playing the old melody, but became hopelessly
confused.

"Darn the tune!" he mumbled.

Sage-brush, ever ready to cheer up the failing courage of a performer,
chirruped: "Shuffle 'em up ag'in and begin a new deal."

Fresno spat on his hands and ruffled his hair like a musical genius.
Again he sought the rhythm among the keys. He tried to whistle the
air. That device failed him.

"Will you all whistle that tune? I'm forgettin' it," was his plaintive
request.

"Sure, let her go, boys," cried Sage-brush.

Falteringly, with many stops and sudden they tried to accompany
Fresno's halting pursuit over the keyboard after the tune that was
dodging about in his mind. All at once the player struck his gait and
introduced a variation on the bass notes.

"That ain't in it," shouted Show Low indignantly.

"Shut up!" bellowed Sage-brush.

With both hands hammering the keys indiscriminately, Fresno made a
noisy if not artistic finish, and whirled about on the stool, to be
greeted by hearty applause.

"Well, I reckon that's goin' some!" he boasted, when the hand-clapping
subsided, bowing low to Polly and Mrs. Allen.

"Goin'?" laughed Polly. "Limpin' is what I call it. If you don't learn
to switch off, you'll get a callous on that one finger of yourn."
Fresno looked at that member dubiously.

"Ain't music civilizin'?" suggested Show Low to Jim Allen.

"You bet!" the ranchman agreed. "Take a pianny an' enough Winchesters
an' you can civilize the hull of China."

"Fresno could kill more with his pianny-play than his gun-play,"
suggested Show Low.

Mrs. Allen bethought herself that there was a lot of work to be done in
preparation for the party. Even if everything was ready, the dear old
soul would find something to do or worry about.

"Come, now, clear out of here, the hull kit an' b'ilin' of you," she
ordered.

The men hastily crowded out on the piazza.

"Take that packin'-case out of sight, if you m