rouble comes to us--as everywhere."

"Shooting," suggested his Excellency, recalling his hospital practice.

"Well, Governor, you know how it is. Our boys are as big-hearted as any
in this big-hearted Western country. You know, Governor. Those generous,
warm-blooded spirits are ever ready for anything."

"Especially after Mrs. Slaghammer's whiskey," remarked the Governor.

The coroner shot a shrewd eye at Wyoming's chief executive. It was not
politically harmonious to be reminded that but for his wife's liquor a
number of fine young men, with nothing save youth untrained and health
the matter with them, would to-day be riding their horses instead
of sleeping on the hill. But the coroner wanted support in the next
campaign. "Boys will be boys," said he. "They ain't pulled any guns
to-night. But I come away, though. Some of 'em's making up pretty free
to Mrs. Lusk. It ain't suitable for me to see too much. Lusk says he's
after you," he mentioned incidentally to Lin. "He's fillin' up, and says
he's after you." McLean nodded placidly, and with scant politeness.
He wished this visitor would go. But Judge Slaghammer had noticed the
whiskey. He filled himself a glass. "Governor, it has my compliments,"
said he. "Ambrosier. Honey-doo."

"Mrs. Slaghammer seems to have a large gathering," said Barker.

"Good boys, good boys!" The judge blew importantly, and waved his arm.
"Bull-whackers, cow-punchers, mule-skinners, tin-horns. All spending
generous. Governor, once more! Ambrosier. Honey-doo." He settled himself
deep in a chair, and closed his eyes.

McLean rose abruptly. "Good-night," said he. "I'm going to Separ."

"Separ!" exclaimed Slaghammer, rousing slightly. "Oh, stay with us, stay
with us." He closed his eyes again, but sustained his smile of office.

"You know how well I wish you," said Barker to Lin. "I'll just see you
start."

Forthwith the friends left the coroner quiet beside his glass, and
walked toward the horses through Drybone's gaping quadrangle. The dead
ruins loomed among the lights of the card-halls, and always the keen
jockey cadences of the fiddle sang across the night. But a calling and
confusion were set up, and the tune broke off.

"Just like old times!" said his Excellency. "Where's the dump-pile!" It
was where it should be, close by, and the two stepped behind it to
be screened from wandering bullets. "A man don't forget his habits,"
declared the Governor. "Makes me feel young again."

"Mak