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' seein' 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 th' 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 holster complete.
"Will you gentlemen join me?" he asked, turning to Red and nodding at the saloon. "I am very dry and much averse to drinking alone."
"Why, shore," responded Red heartily, wishing to put the stranger at ease.
The game was running about even as they entered and Lefty Allen was singing "The Insult," the rich tenor softening the harshness of the surroundings.
The Insult
I've swum th' Colorado where she runs down clost to hell,
I've braced th' faro layouts in Cheyenne;
