Johnny walked over, picked up the gun and handed it to its owner, slapping him on the back at the same time. "Here, Ol' Timer," he grinned, "take yore gun. She's a beauty an' ain't hurt a bit. Don't it beat all how me an you get all mixed up without meanin' to? I says it's funny--cussed if it ain't!" Big Tom fumbled at the holster, slid the gun into it, and a grin crawled across his face. "Seems like we _are_ allus buttin' our fool heads together," he replied. "I'm with you, Nelson. I'm with th' boys. Th' h--l with wimmin. They're barred, an' I won't listen about 'em, We're all men--ain't we, boys?" "I reckon so," said Dave. He motioned to Squint and Fraser, nodding at Big Tom, and then at the door. "Hey, Tom," called Fraser, "let's go home!" "Won't--won't go home!" objected Big Tom, lurching forward. Reaching a chair in a corner he fell into it and in a few minutes was snoring sonorously. Dave slid his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. His pose bespoke great weariness. He looked at Johnny and shook his head in bewilderment. Johnny dragged a chair up to the unused second table, made a face at the fat proprietor, and piled up a sizable stack of coins in front of him. "Any Bar H or Triangle _hombre_ think they can get any of this?" he demanded, grinning. Four men thought so at the same time; and soon a third game was going on beside them. Two-Spot poked his face up to the window again and looked in. Then he came in with an air of non-chalant confidence. Having seen all that had happened he believed the stormy weather to be over and if it wasn't, why Nelson seemed to be a friend of his, which sufficed. Dave slid him a partly filled bottle. "Take it away and don't bother me," said the proprietor. "I'm restin' up for th' next storm." Two-Spot looked around. "You can go to sleep, Dave," he said. "I'll tend bar for you. There won't be no more. My friend over there is like his black cayuse--everythin' in this country is hid back in his dust." Turning away, he glanced quickly around, stuck out his tongue at the snoring Mr. Huff, put his bottle on a chair, sat down on another one, rested his feet on the recumbent form of Squint, who snored tenor to his boss' bass, and appeared to be well pleased with himself. CHAPTER IV WITH HIS SHADOW BEFORE HIM