"Hullo, fellers," grinned Frisco, drawing rein. "Everybody have a drink on me," laughed Chet. "Ah'm pow'ful thirsty." Frisco was escorted inside to the bar, where Chet did the honors, and where such a spirit of hospitality and joviality surrounded him that he forgot how many drinks he had taken. He dug up a handful of gold and silver and spread it out on the bar and waved at the bartender. "Bes' you got--ver' bes'," he grinned. "Me an' my fren's want th' ver' bes'; don't we, fellers? I got money--helluva lot of money--an' thersh more where it came from, ain't that so, boys?" When the noise had subsided he turned around and levelled an unsteady finger at the bartender. "I never go--back onsh fren', never. An' we're all frensh--ain't we, fellers? Tha's right. I got s'more frensh--good fellesh, an' lots of money cached in sand." "Ah'll bet yuh have!" cried Chet. "You allus could find pay-dirt," marvelled Nevada, glancing warningly around him. "Yo're a fine prospector, all right." Frisco stared for a moment and then laughed loudly and leaned against the bar for support. "Proshpector! Proshpector! W'y, we earned tha's money--run a helluva lot of risks. Mebby tha's Bar-20 outfit'll jump us an' make us fight 'em. No; they can't jump us--they can't get up at us!" "On a mesa, shore!" whispered Elder to Lewis. "Wha's you shay?" "Said they couldn't lick you." "Who couldn't--lick us?" "Th' Bar-20," explained Elder. Frisco rubbed his head and drew himself up, suspicion percolating through his muddled brain. "Never shaid nozzing 'bout no Bar-Twensh!" he asserted, angrily. "Nozzing 'tall. I'm going out of here--don't like you! Gotta get some flour an' ozzer stuff. Never shaid nozzing 'bout--" he muttered, staggering out. Nevada turned to Elder. "You go with him an' quiet his suspicions. Keep him away from Quinn, for that coyote'll hold him till he gets sober if you don't. This is the chance we've been wanting. Don't try to pump him--his trail will be all we need." "Wonder what mesa they're on?" asked Lewis. "Don't know, an' don't care," Nevada replied. "We'll find out quick enough. There's eight of us an' we can put up a stiff argument if they won't take us in. You know they ain't going to welcome us, don't you?" "Hey, go out th' back way," growled Big Sandy, interposing his huge bulk between Bates and the door. "An' don't let Frisco see you near a cayuse, neither," he added. Nevada walked quickly over to his friend and said a few hurried words in a low voice and Big Sandy nodded. "Shore, Nevada; he might try that, but I'll watch him. If he tries to sneak I'll let you know hasty. We're in this to stay," and he followed the others to the door. Nevada turned and faced the bartender. "Mike, you keep quiet about what you saw an' heard to-day; understand? If you don't, me an' you won't fit in this town at th' same time." Mike grinned. "I forgot how to talk after one exciting day up in Cheyenne, an' I ain't been drunk since, neither."