h.'"

"Meanin'?" asked the other, as he mechanically swabbed the bar.

"Meanin' that you an' Doc's goin' to help me do it. An' that hain't
all. Tonight 'long 'bout dance time I want that saddle horse o' yourn
an' yer sideways saddle, too. They's a gal o' mine come in on the
train, which she'll be wantin', mebbe, to take a ride, an' hain't
fetched no split-up clothes fer to straddle a real saddle. That
sideways contraption you sent fer 'fore yer gal got to ridin' man-ways
is the only one in Wolf River, an' likewise hern's the only horse
that'll stand fer bein' rigged up in it."

"Sure. You're welcome to the horse an' saddle, Jack. The outfit's in
the livery barn. Jest tell Ross to have him saddled agin' you want
him. He's gentled down so's a woman c'n handle him all right."

"Uh, huh. An' how about the other? Y'goin' to do as I say 'bout that,
too?"

The bartender opened a box behind him and selected a cigar which he
lighted with extreme deliberation. "I told you onct I don't know what
yer talkin' about. Lazy Y Freeman an' Doc Godkins's dirty work ain't
none of my business. If you win, you win, an' that's all there is to
it."

The cowpuncher laughed shortly, and his black eyes narrowed, as he
leaned closer. "Oh, that's all, is it? Well, Mr. Cinnabar Joe, let me
tell yeh that hain't all--by a damn sight!" He paused, but the other
never took his eyes from his face. "Do yeh know what chloral is?" The
man's voice lowered to a whisper and the words seemed to hiss from
between his lips. The other shook his head. "Well, it's somethin' yeh
slip into a man's licker that puts him to sleep."

"You mean drug? Dope!" The bartender's eyes narrowed and the corner
of his mouth whitened where it gripped the cigar.

Purdy nodded: "Yes. It don't hurt no one, only it puts 'em to sleep
fer mebbe it's three er four hours. I'll get some from Doc an' yer
goin' to slip a little into Tex Benton's booze. Then he jest nach'lly
dozes off an' the boys thinks he's spliflicated an' takes him down to
the hotel an' puts him to bed, an' before he wakes up I'll have the
buckin' contest, an' the ropin' contest, an' most of the rest of it in
my war-bag. I hain't afraid of none of the rest of the boys hornin' in
on the money--an' 'tain't the money I want neither; I want to win them
contests particular--an' I'm a-goin' to."

Without removing his elbows from the bar, Cinnabar Joe nodded toward
the door: "You git to hell out