om a dollar to "two bits," but the
treasury was low--the times were panicky.

As soon as he had changed the notice he strolled up to the Paradise
to inform the bartender that impounding fines had been cut to bargain
prices and to ask him to make the fact generally known through his
patrons. As he came within sight of the building he jumped with
pleasure, for a horse was standing dejectedly before the door. Joy of
joys, trade was picking up--a stranger had come to town! Hastening back
to the corral, he added a cipher to the posted figure, added a decimal
point, and changed the cents sign to that of a dollar. Two dollars and
fifty cents was now the price prescribed by law. Returning hastily to
the Paradise, he led the animal away, impounded it, and then sat down
in front of the corral gate with his Winchester across his knees. Two
dollars and fifty cents! Prosperity had indeed returned!

"Where the CG ranch is I dunno, but I do know where one of their cayuses
is," he mused, glancing between two of the corral posts at the sleepy
animal. "If I has to auction it off to pay for its keep and the fine,
the saddle will bring a good, round sum. I allus knowed that a dollar
wasn't enough, nohow."

Nat Fisher, punching cows for the CG and tired of his job, leaned
comfortably back in his chair in the Paradise and swapped lies with the
all-wise bartender. After a while he realized that he was hopelessly
outclassed at this diversion and he dug down into his pocket and brought
to light some loose silver and regarded it thoughtfully. It was all the
money he had and was beginning to grow interesting.

"Say, was you ever broke?" he asked suddenly, a trace of sadness in his
voice.

The bartender glanced at him quickly, but remained judiciously silent,
smelling the preamble of an attempt to "touch."

"Well, I have been, am now, an' allus will be, more or less," continued
Fisher, in soliloquy, not waiting for an answer to his question. "Money
an' me don't ride the same range, not any. Here I am fifty miles away
from my ranch, with four dollars and ninety-five cents between me an'
starvation an' thirst, an' me not going home for three days yet. I was
going to quit the CG this month, but now I gotta go on working for it
till another pay-day. I don't even own a cayuse. Now, just to show you
what kind of a prickly pear I am, I'll cut the cards with you to see who
owns this," he suggested, smiling brightly at his companion.

The bartender