d get it over.

"Buck up, Charlie! Get your gang busy. I'm paying the piper."

Phil kept fairly well in the background, but drew closer to the lea of
the others. He caught Jim's eye once, and he fancied he detected the
faintest flicker of a wink; but, otherwise, Jim's face remained
inscrutable.

Sitting easily on his horse, he pulled out a roll of bills and tossed
over the cost of the treat to Mackenzie.

"Listen, fellows!" said he, leaning over in his saddle, "this is my
last long bat. Next time you see me on the tear, shoot me on sight."

He pulled out his watch.

"Five minutes to nine! Say,--you'll have to excuse me; I've an
appointment with a lady friend for nine o'clock."

Someone laughed.

"What the devil are you laughing at? I said a _lady_; and I meant it.
Now, darn you,--laugh!" he taunted.

The laugh didn't come.

"Ho, Charlie! What do your windows cost?" he asked, pointing to those
fronting the main street.

"Want to buy a window?" grinned the fleshy hotel-keeper.

"Sure!"

"One--or the whole frame?"

"The entire works, the nine windows, frame and all!"

"Oh well!--to you, Jim, that would be fifty bucks, less ten percent
for cash," replied Mackenzie, going over to the cash register.

"Fifty dollars, less ten percent," repeated Jim; "that's forty-five
dollars." His voice rose gaily. "There she goes, Charlie!"

He threw forty-five dollars from his roll over the counter.

"The window's mine! Good-bye, boys! My little lady is waiting for
me."

He swung his mare round, set his heels into her sides and, before
anyone could move, the horse and its rider sprang for the window,
dashed clear through it on to the roadway and away at a gallop,
without so much as a stop or a stumble; leaving a shower of broken
glass and splintered wood in their train.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Coat of Many Colours

Before going to work next morning, Phil peeped into Jim's bedroom, and
the sight proved pleasing to his eyes.

The place looked like a rocky beach after a storm and a shipwreck;
boots, hat, spurs, leather straps, riding chaps, coat, pants,
everything, lay in a muddle on the carpet, while Jim, the cause of all
the rummage--innocent-looking as a newly born lamb, and smiling
serenely in his evidently pleasant dreams--lay in bed, fast asleep.

At noon, after lunch, Phil looked in again, pushed the door wide and
entered.

Jim was in his trousers and his undershirt, and was laboriously
shaving him