nsciously keeping time to Lefty's song.
Notwithstanding the grim assertiveness of belts full of .45's and the
peeping handles of long-barreled Colts, set off with picturesque chaps,
sombreros and tinkling spurs, the scene was one of peaceful content and
good-fellowship.

"Ugh!" grunted Johnny, walking over to Red and informing that person
that he, Red, was a worm-eaten prune and that for half a wink he,
Johnny, would prove it. Red grabbed him by the seat of his corduroys
and the collar of his shirt and helped him outside, where they strolled
about, taking pot shots at whatever their fancy suggested.

Down the street in a cloud of dust rumbled the Las Cruces-El Paso stage
and the two punchers went up to meet it. Raw furrows showed in the
woodwork, one mule was missing and the driver and guard wore fresh
bandages. A tired tenderfoot leaped out with a sigh of relief and hunted
for his baggage, which he found to be generously perforated. Swearing
at the God-forsaken land where a man had to fight highwaymen and
Indians inside of half a day he grumblingly lugged his valise toward a
forbidding-looking shack which was called a hotel.

The driver released his teams and then turned to Red. "Hullo, old hoss,
how's th' gang?" he asked genially. "We've had a heck of a time this
yere trip," he went on without waiting for Red to reply. "Five miles out
of Las Cruces we stood off a son-of-a-gun that wanted th' dude's wealth.
Then just this side of the San Andre foothills we runs into a bunch of
young bucks who turned us off this yere way an' gave us a runnin' fight
purty near all th' way. I'm a whole lot farther from Paso now than I
was when I started, an seem as I lost a jack I'll be some time gittin'
there. Yu don't happen to sabe a jack I can borrow, do yu?"

"I don't know about no jack, but I'll rope yu a bronch," offered Red,
winking at Johnny.

"I'll pull her myself before I'll put dynamite in di' traces," replied
the driver. "Yu fellers might amble back a ways with me--them buddin'
warriors'll be layin' for me."

"We shore will," responded Johnny eagerly. "There's nine of us now an'
there'll be nine more an' a cook to-morrow, mebby."

"Gosh, yu grows some," replied the guard. "Eighteen'll be a plenty for
them glory hunters."

"We won't be able to," contradicted Red, "for things are peculiar."

At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the tenderfoot, who
sported a new and cheap sombrero and also a belt and hols