etime, Sonny."

"James!" his wife repeated, "how can you be so mean! Now, stop teasing and
behave yourself!"

"For a long time I've been puzzled about what you resembled, but now
I have your words for it," easily countered The Orphan. "Thank you for
putting me straight."

The sheriff grinned sheepishly and scratched his head: "I'm an old fool,"
he grumbled, and forthwith departed to tell Helen of the fencing.

Mrs. Shields excused herself and followed her husband into the kitchen to
look after the dinner, and The Orphan sauntered over to his outfit just
as Jim looked out of a rear window. Jim turned quickly, his face wearing
a grin from ear to ear.

"Hey, Bud!" he called eagerly. "Bud!"

"What?" asked Bud, turning at the hail.

"Come over here for a minute, I want to show you something," Jim replied,
"but don't let Humble come."

Bud obeyed and looked: "Jimminee!" he exulted. "Don't that look sumptious,
though? This is where we shine, all right." Then turned: "Hey, fellows,
come over here and take a look."

As they crowded around the window Humble discovered that something was
in the wind and he followed them. What they saw was a long table beneath
two trees, and it was covered with a white cloth and dressed for a feast.
Bud turned quickly from the crowd and forcibly led Humble to a side
window before that unfortunate had seen anything and told him to put
his finger against the glass, which Humble finally did after an argument.

"Feel the pain?" Bud asked.

"Why, no," Humble replied, looking critically at his finger. "What's the
matter with you, anyhow?"

"Nothing," replied Bud. "Think it over, Humble," he advised, turning away.

Humble again put his finger to the glass and then snorted:

"Locoed chump! Prosperity is making him nutty!" When he turned he saw his
friends laughing silently at him and making grimaces, and a light suddenly
broke in upon him.

"Yes, I did!" he cried. "That joke is so old I plumb forgot it years ago!
Spring something that hasn't got whiskers and a halting step, will you?"

Jim laughed and suggested a dance, but was promptly squelched.

"You heathen!" snorted Blake in mock horror. "This is Sunday! If you want
to dance wait till you get back to the ranch--suppose one of the women was
here and heard you say that!"

"Gee, I forgot all about it being Sunday," replied Jim, quickly looking
to see if any of the women were in the room. "We're regular barbarians,
ain't we!" he excl