“I got more money than a dog has fleas, but I ain’t enjoyed it none. I opines to throw a surprise into Paradise, so I buys this gasoline buckboard, has her shipped to Silver Bend, and here I am. She’s worse than any outlaw bronc that ever flinched under a saddle, Henry, and I’m older by years and years than I was a week ago when a man teached me how to drive it. I don’t know what makes her run. All I got to do is put gasoline in her, twist her tail a few times, pull the designated levers, and point her away from the stumps. She sure makes enough noise.” “You figured the tune right, Calamity,” says I. “Paradise sure is doing itself proud in your honor.” “‘In my honor?’ What’s the idea, Henry?” “Well, yuh see it ain’t often that a town can have a former inhabitant come home rich and distinguished like you are. The public sure admires a man with a chunk off the root of all evil, Calamity. We’ve decorated in your honor, and tomorrow we parades before yuh to show our admiration and respect. Sabe?” “My gosh, Henry!” he snorts. “This is too much.” “It’s considerable, Calamity, but look who you are.” “That’s a fact, Henry—it sure is. Well, well!” He sets there, with a far-away look in his eyes, and that cigaret sizzling on his mustache, and sudden-like he reaches under the seat and hauls out a jug. “Henry Peck, I been saving this for my old friends—Tellurium, Doughgod, ‘Half Mike’ Smith, et cettry, but you qualifies, Henry. Your oration sure puts joy into my old heart. Go as deep as yuh like.” I sets there in his gas go-devil, and we swears allegiance to each other. We celebrates our new-found friendship, and regales each other with anecdotes. I tells him all the neighborhood gossip, and we toast each and every one. He tells me about his property in the Little Rockies, and we drinks a toast to all the little rocks. My bronc gets the rope loose, and passes us on his way home. We toasts the Cross J and my pinto. “Who did yuh say was going to lead the pe-rade in my honor?” asks Calamity. “I am. Being your best friend, Calamity, I’m eligible. I’ll ride that pinto bronc at the head end of that great conglomeration. How’d yuh like that, old-timer?” “I got a better idea,” says he, solemn-like. “I’ll teach yuh how to run this here contraption, and you lead her in this. How’d yuh like to do that, Henry?” “Sounds to me like the voice of angels. What yuh packing in them two cans in the rear?” “Gasoline. Twenty gallons I shipped with the car. All yuh got to do is to twist that front crank until she starts humming. Sabe? Then yuh get in and let this here brake loose. You get out and give her a twist, Henry. That’s the first lesson.”