"That's about all there was to it," concluded Colorado Rogers, after a
pause, "--except that I've been looking for him ever since, and when I
heard you singing that song I naturally thought I'd landed."

"And you never saw him again?" asked Windy Bill.

"Well," chuckled Rogers, "I did about ten year later. It was in
Tucson. I was in the back of a store, when the door in front opened
and this man came in. He stopped at the little cigar-case by the door.
In about one jump I was on his neck. I jerked him over backwards
before he knew what had struck him, threw him on his face, got my hands
in his back-hair, and began to jump his features against the floor.
Then all at once I noted that this man had two arms; so of course he
was the wrong fellow. "Oh, excuse me," said I, and ran out the back
door."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE HONK-HONK BREED

It was Sunday at the ranch. For a wonder the weather had been
favourable; the windmills were all working, the bogs had dried up, the
beef had lasted over, the remuda had not strayed--in short, there was
nothing to do. Sang had given us a baked bread-pudding with raisins in
it. We filled it--in a wash basin full of it--on top of a few
incidental pounds of chile con, baked beans, soda biscuits, "air
tights," and other delicacies. Then we adjourned with our pipes to the
shady side of the blacksmith's shop where we could watch the ravens on
top the adobe wall of the corral. Somebody told a story about ravens.
This led to road-runners. This suggested rattlesnakes. They started
Windy Bill.

"Speakin' of snakes," said Windy, "I mind when they catched the
great-granddaddy of all the bullsnakes up at Lead in the Black Hills.
I was only a kid then. This wasn't no such tur'ble long a snake, but
he was more'n a foot thick. Looked just like a sahuaro stalk. Man
name of Terwilliger Smith catched it. He named this yere bullsnake
Clarence, and got it so plumb gentle it followed him everywhere. One
day old P. T. Barnum come along and wanted to buy this Clarence
snake--offered Terwilliger a thousand cold--but Smith wouldn't part
with the snake nohow. So finally they fixed up a deal so Smith could
go along with the show. They shoved Clarence in a box in the baggage
car, but after a while Mr. Snake gets so lonesome he gnaws out and
starts to crawl back to find his master. Just as he is half-way
between the baggage car and the smoker, the couplin' give way--right on
that heavy