something in his glass which cut all the way down, but
Riles speedily forgot it in a more exciting incident. The man in the
pepper-and-salt suit had laid half a dollar on the bar, _and no
change came back_. Riles congratulated himself on his own narrow
escape.

"You'll be looking for land?" inquired the stranger, when both were
breathing easily again.

"Well, maybe I am, and maybe I ain't," said Riles guardedly. He had
heard something of the ways of confidence men, and was determined not
to be taken for an easy mark.

"A man of some judgment, I see," said his new acquaintance, quite
unabashed. "Well, I don't blame you for keeping your own counsel. The
rush of people and money into the West has brought all kinds of
floaters in its train. Why"--with growing confidence--"the other
night--"

What happened the other night remained untold, for at that moment
came a clattering of horse's hoofs on the wooden walk at the door,
and a moment later a gaily arrayed cowboy rode right into the room,
his horse prancing and bodying from side to side to clear the crowd
away, then facing up to the bar as though it were his manger. Riles
expected trouble, and was surprised when the feat evoked a cheer from
the bystanders.

"That's Horseback George," said the man in the pepper-and-salt. "They
say he sleeps on his horse. Rides right into a bar as a matter of
course, and maybe shoots a few bottles off the shelves as a
demonstration before he goes out. But he always settles, and nobody
mind his little peculiarities."

Horseback George treated himself twice, proffering each glass to his
horse before touching it himself, and stroking with one hand the
animal's ears as he raised the liquor to his lips. Then he threw a
bill at the bar-tender and, with a wild whoop, slapped the horse's
legs with his hat, and dashed at a gallop out of the bar-room and
away down the trail.

The stranger was about to resume his conversation when a big fellow
near by shouted in a loud, raucous voice, "Come, pard, set 'er up.
Who's drinkin with me?"

No one answered, and the big man looked about the crowd with a
deepening scowl.

"So you're not drinkin'?" he said. "Fill two glasses, pard, and set
'em right there." He turned his back to the bar, resting his elbows
on it, and surveyed the crowd contemptuously, meanwhile chewing a
mouthful of tobacco with a rapid, swinging motion of the jaw.

"Guess you fellows don't know who _I_ am," he said. "I--"

"No,