I rolled a smoke, and the match made as much noise as a six-shooter. We never thought to look in the corral last night. Then Wick Smith comes in. He buys himself a drink, and then he wipes his mustache. He looks at us sad-like and shakes his head. “Been to the post-office,” says he. “She ain’t coming until this afternoon.” “——!” grunts Telescope. “That team must ’a’ taken her a long ways.” “Didn’t have nun-nothing on that—that mum-mule,” grunts Wick, and then he weaves out of the door. Wick has been drinking. “What seems to be the trouble with you fellers?” asked the bartender. “You look like you’d been to battle and got run over by a cannon.” We ignores the inquiry, and pretty soon Telescope says— “Been anything startling going on here lately?” “——!” snorts the bartender. “Startling! Nothing ever happens in Paradise.” And he goes on wiping glasses. “That’s good,” says Muley soft-like. “I love a quiet village.” We got up, one at a time, and wandered outside. I’m the last one out. There ain’t nothing to do but walk back. We might chip in and hire a rig at the livery stable, but under the circumstances—well, we don’t feel like riding so close together, and rigs cost money. I seen Muley setting on the sidewalk, pulling off his boots, and over on the watering-trough, one on each end, sets Telescope and Chuck like a couple of snow-birds, soaking their sore feet. Muley joins them, and then Henry Peck goes over and immerses his corns. We ain’t been there long when here comes Doughgod Smith, galloping up the street. “If he’s got any more dirty work to have done, he can do it himself,” proclaims Chuck. “I’m through deceiving women.” Doughgod races up to us and hops up and down around us. “Get down to the depot, Chuck!” he yelps. “She’s there.” “Who?” asks Chuck. “The lady—dog-gone you! The one I gave you the money for. _Sabe?_ Point her homeward, boys, and make it sudden,” and Doughgod lopes on up the street. He sure is skittish around calico. “We’ve got to stand together,” observes Chuck, pulling on his boots. “We’ve got to. Divided we fall.” “Under them circumstances I waves a flag of truce,” says Telescope. “I may kill a friend later on, but it never can be said that a Tolliver ever went back on a friend in need.” * * * * * We all plods down the street, with Muley carrying his boots, and, just as we got to the depot, a freight-train whistles. The lady is there. She’s setting there on a low truck in the shade, doing fancy work, and she’s the same lady. “My ——!” snorts Telescope. “She must be made of cast-iron. Ain’t bunged up a bit.” “And I ain’t only got seven dollars of that money left,” wails Chuck. “I must ’a’ lost it.” We all digs down and manages to collect enough to make up the original twenty, and, just as the freight rolls in, we walks over to the lady. Chuck leans over and drops the money in her lap, and her face turns white as flour when she looks up at us.