"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles. "W'y sure!" went on Brigham. "Anybody that knows anythin' about the show business knows that. No matter how good a stunt is, it's got to be mysterious or the people won't pay to see it. Either that, or it's got to be feats of strength and darin'. Now this youngest Hassan brother was a strong-armed man. He'd wrap a piece of chain around his arm, tighten up his muscle and _pop!_ it'd break right square in two. Same thing with his chest--he'd wrap a loggin' chain around his breast, suck in his breast, and snap it like a thread. You've seen fellers like that, haven't you?" "Sure!" said Bowles. "Yes--all right!" continued Brigham apologetically. "Seems like the simplest thing I tell these fellers some rabbit-twister from Texas up and contradicts me. Well, this youngest brother had a pretty good stunt to end up with--nothin' flashy, of co'se, but pretty good fer a kid. He was powerful strong in the right arm and he'd hold it out like this"--Brigham held out his brawny arm--"and then he'd muscle up, real slow-like, and then, by grab, he'd raise himself right up, and come down over, and set right down on that thumb!" He elevated his thumb as he spoke, and the cowboys gazed at it as if hypnotized. Then Bar Seven rose up slowly and, walking over to the defenseless Brigham, mashed his hat down over his eyes at a single blow. "Brig," he said, his voice trembling with conviction, "you're a dad-burned liar!" CHAPTER XII PROMOTED There was quite a little excitement in the bunk-house that night, and when it was at its height Brigham Clark came tottering out with his bed. "Say, where's that friend of mine--that Coney Island feller?" he inquired, addressing the recumbent forms of men as he scouted along the wagon-shed. "I'm skeered to sleep in the same house with them cotton-pickers and old Bar Seven--they might rise up in the night and throw me into the hawse-trough. Huh? Oh, that's him over there, hey? Well, so long, fellers--kinder cold out hyer, ain't it? But I cain't sleep in that bunk-house no more--them fellers, they doubt my veracity!" He was still chuckling with subdued laughter as he dropped his bed down in a far corner beside Bowles; but nothing was said until he had spread his "tarp" and blankets and crept in out of the cold. Then he laughed again, quivering until the earth seemed to shake with his contagious merriment. "Say, pardner," he said, "you're all right. We capped 'em in on that proper, and no mistake. Did you see old Bar Seven's jaw drop when he saw how he was bit? I'll have that on him for many a long day now, and it'll shore cost him the drinks when we git to town next month. Gittin' too lively for me over in the bunk-house, so I thought I'd come out here with you." "Sure!" responded Bowles, who had secretly been lonely for company. "It's rather cold out here, but the air is better."