matoes, which were Special XXX, nor over the
beefsteak, which might have been worse. An hour later he went out on
the street with his host, whose conduct thus far, he was forced to
admit, had been irreproachable. They strolled up the rambling street,
past many straggling buildings, and at length paused before the little
building, made of sun-dried brick, and plastered with mud, where Dan
Anderson had his residence and his law office.

"You'll excuse me, Mr. Ellsworth," said that young gentleman, "for
bringing you here, but the truth is I thought you might be thirsty and
might get poisoned. You have to do these things gradually, till you
get immune. Now, under my bed, I've got a bottle which never has been
opened and which ought to be safe. I don't bother corks a great deal,
only when we are welcoming distinguished guests."

"It's just a little soon after dinner," demurred Ellsworth, "but,
ahem! That dust--yes, I believe I will."

There was a dignity about Dan Anderson now which left Ellsworth
distinctly uncomfortable. The latter felt himself in some fashion at
a disadvantage before this penniless adventurer, this young man whom
once he had not cared to have as a regular visitor at his own home
back in the far-off East.

"You don't mean to tell me, young man," he spoke after a long period
of silence, "that this is the way you live?"

"Certainly," said Dan Anderson. "I know I'm extravagant. I don't
need a place as good as this, but I always was sort of sensuous, you
know." Ellsworth looked at him without any comprehension, from him to
the bed with blankets, and the bare table. "Come in," said Dan
Anderson, "and sit down. Better sit on the chair, I reckon. One leg
of the bed is sort of dicky."

"So this is the way you live?" repeated Ellsworth to Dan Anderson, who
was now on his hands and knees and searching under the bed. "Now,
about my daughter--is there any hotel--are there any women?"

"Three, from Kansas," said Dan Anderson. "That is, three real ones.
All the female earth, Mr. Ellsworth, comes from Kansas, same as all
the baled hay. Oh, yes, here she is!"

He had been speaking with his voice somewhat muffled under the bed,
but now emerged, bearing a dusty bottle in his hand.

Mr. Ellsworth looked at him a bit keenly; for, after all, he was not a
bad judge of men. "How long has that bottle been there?" asked he,
abruptly.

"Oh, a couple of years, maybe."

"And you've never opened it?"

"