e joke? And another thing, he was hard at it when I struck town.
Now, where'd yuh get off at?"

To this argument they offered several explanations--at all of which
Happy grunted in great disdain.

They clattered nonchalantly into Dry Lake, still unconvinced and still
jeering at Happy Jack. The town was very quiet, even for Dry Lake. As
they rounded the blacksmith shop, from where they could see the whole
length of the one street which the place boasted, a yell, shrill,
exultant, familiar, greeted them. A long-legged figure they knew well
dashed down the street to them, a waving six-shooter in one hand, the
reins held aloft in the other. His horse gave evidence of hard usage,
and it was a horse none of them had ever seen before.

"It's him, all right," Jack Bates admitted reluctantly.

"_Yip! Cowboys in town_!" rang the slogan of the range land. "Come
on and--_wake 'em up_! _OO-oop-ee_!" He pulled up so suddenly that
his horse almost sat down in the dust, and reined in beside Pink.

They eyed him in amaze, and avoided meeting one another's eyes. Truly,
he was a strange-looking Weary. His head was bare and disheveled, his
eyes bloodshot and glaring, his cheeks flushed hotly. His
neck-kerchief covered his chest like a bib and he wore no coat; one
shirtsleeve was rent from shoulder to cuff, telling eloquently that
violent hands had sought to lay hold on him. His long legs, clad in
Angora chaps, swung limp to the stirrup. By all these signs and
tokens, they knew that he was drunk---joyously, unequivocally,
vociferously drunk!

Joe Meeker peered cautiously out of the window of Rusty Brown's place
when they rode up, and Cal Emmett swore aloud at sight of him. Joe
Meeker was the most indefatigable male gossip for fifty miles around,
and the story of Weary's spree would spread far and fast. Worse, it
would reach first of all the ears of Weary's School-ma'am, who lived at
Meeker's.

Cal started to get down; he wanted to go in and reason with Joe Meeker.
At all events, Ruby Satterlee must not hear of Weary's defection. It
was all right, maybe, for some men to make fools of themselves in this
fashion; some women would look upon it with lenience. But this was
different; Weary was different, and so was Ruby Satterlee. Cal
meditated upon just what would the most effectually close the mouth of
Joe Meeker.

But Weary spied him as his foot touched the ground. "Oh, yuh can't
sneak off like that, old-timer. Y