oney, Misto' Breckenridge." The agent was a
bachelor with a fat salary. "Here, that makes it fifty," said he. He
turned to Felton. "Now, what do you say if we go across the street
and--er--discuss this matter a little further?"

"Go you," replied Felton.

"Now, Jimmy, you sit here for a moment. We're going on some business."

The boy glanced at them sharply. "Youse fellers is goin' to get a drink,"
said he.

Those big men put their hands on their sides and roared.

"You'll find that kid worse than a wife, Felton!" said the agent.

"No use of our being hypocrites to the little chap. I reckon he's seen
worse things than the inside of a saloon. Come along, laddybuck."

They lined up and partook. The agent told the story of the waif. "And we
started him off with fifty, Mac," he said to the saloon-keeper. "Suppose
you break away from some of your ill-gotten gains in the good cause."

The saloon-keeper opened his cash drawer without words and slid over a
five-dollar bill. He seemed very glad to part with it.

"Confound it! Now we're upsticks again," said the agent. "Tell you what
let's do. Here's ten of us. Each man put up a two, and we'll shake the
dice to see who gives it to the kid--winner to set 'em up. That'll make
seventy-five--a very respectable figure."

They played a new interesting dice-game, in which the figure of a pig
drawn in chalk upon the bar furnished the "lay-out." It is a game which
increases in interest to the last throw. They stuck the saloon-keeper,
and were gleeful.

"We ought to name the boy," said Felton, under the inspiration of the
second refreshment. "My name's Jim, and I want something else to call him
by. I'll make him a present of my last name."

"Gad, that's so!" replied the agent.

"Call him Chescheela Jim," put in a cow-man. "That's Injun for 'little
Jim.' 'Ches' ain't a bad nickname."

"Mac, hand over one of those toy sample bottles of California fizz," said
the agent. "We'll put this craft down the ways in shape."

Felton broke the neck off the bottle with a tack-hammer and poured the
wine on the boy's head. "I christen thee Chescheela James Felton--may you
become a good seaworthy craft, and not fill your skin with this stuff
when you grow up," said he dramatically.

The small boy squinted up his eyes to keep the wine out; then he shook
the liquid from his hair, looked up and grinned.

"Youse fellers is reg'lar kids," said he.

"Lord, that's a great boy!" said the agent