“Yore shore uneasy: yu ain't a-scared, are yu?” He drawled. Porous relaxed and made a show of subduing his horse: “I reckon I ain't scared plumb to death. Yu can deal me a hand,” he asserted. “I'll draw cards too,” hastily announced Silent, buttoning his vest. “Tell us about that jamboree over in th' Panhandle.” Tex repeated the story as he had heard it from a bibulous member of the Barred Horseshoe, and then added a little of torture as a sauce to whet their appetites for revenge. “How did Trendley cash in?” Asked Porous. “Nobody knows except that bum from th' Tin-Cup. I'll get him later. I'd a got Cassidy up in Santa Fe, too, if it wasn't for th' sun in my eyes. Me an' Slim loosened up on him in th' Plaza, but we couldn't see nothing with him a-standin' against th' sun.” “Where's Slim now?” Asked Porous. “I ain't seen him for some time.” “Slim's with Trendley,” replied Tex. “Cassidy handed him over to St. Pete at Cactus Springs. Him an' Connors sicked their outfit on him an' his vigilantes, bein helped some by th' O-Bar-O. They wiped th' town plumb off th' earth, an' now I'm going to do some wipin' of my own account. I'll prune that gang of some of its blossoms afore long. It's cost me seventeen friends so far, an' I'm going to stop th' leak, or make another.” They entered Muddy Wells at sunrise on the day of the carnival and, eating a hearty breakfast, sallied forth to do their share toward making the festivities a success. The first step considered necessary for the acquirement of case and polish was begun at the nearest bar, and Tex, being the host, was so liberal that his friends had reached a most auspicious state when they followed him to Tom Lee's. Tex was too wise to lose his head through drink and had taken only enough to make him careless of consequences. Porous was determined to sing “Annie Laurie,” although he hung on the last word of the first line until out of breath and then began anew. Silent, not wishing to be outdone, bawled at the top of his lungs a medley of music-hall words to the air of a hymn. Tex, walking as awkwardly as any cow-puncher, approached Tom Lee's, his two friends trailing erratically, arm in arm, in his rear. Swinging his arm he struck the door a resounding blow and entered, hand on gun, as it crashed back. Porous and Silent stood in the doorway and quarreled as to what each should drink and, compromising, lurched in and seated themselves on a table and resumed their vocal perpetrations. Tex swaggered over to the bar and tossed a quarter upon it: “Corn juice,” he laconically exclaimed. Tossing off the liquor and glancing at his howling friends, he shrugged his shoulders and strode out by the rear door, slamming it after him. Porous and Silent, recounting friends who had “cashed in” fell to weeping and they were thus occupied when Hopalong and Buck entered, closely followed by the rest of the outfit.