"I’m glad you said you was stupid," replied Tex. "It saves me from sayin’ it, an’ comin’ from me it might sound sorta official." He glanced up the street and back to his companion. "Yo’re not afoot, cowboy; yo’re ridin’ strong. I’m th’ one that’s afoot, an’ I’ll agree with you about a cowpunch amountin’ to nothin’ off his cayuse. Did you ever have a door slammed plumb in yore face, Tommy?" Tommy wiped out Denver, Central City, Old Julesburg, and Ft. Kearney with one swing of his foot. "You--I--you _mean_ that?" The marshal nodded. "Every word of it. Outlawed steers should keep to th’ draws an’ brakes, Tommy. Besides, I’m over forty-five years old, an’ I never was any parson. Keep right on ridin’, Adolescence; an’ I’m hopin’ it’s a plain, fair trail. Tommy, did you ever shoot a man?" "Not yet I ain’t; but I’ve come cussed near it. Seein’ what’s goin’ on in this town, I has hopes." "Don’t yield to no temptations, Tommy; an’ let yore hopes die," warned the marshal. "If there’s any of that to be done, I’ll do it. I reckon you’ll shore have a easy trail." "I--will--be--tee-totally--d--d!" said Tommy. He shook his head and leaned back against the front of the office. "Does she know all about it?" "Everythin’; I owed myself that much," answered Tex, and then he helped to maintain a reflective, introspective, and emotional silence. Blascom emerged from the Mecca with a two-gallon jug, empty from the way it jerked and swung. He looked at the silent pair leaning against the marshal’s office, abruptly made up his mind, and strode over to them. "You shore look sorrerful," he said. "We’ve just been to a funeral," said Tex. "Th’ corpse looked nat’ral, too." "Sufferin’ wildcats!" ejaculated Tommy in pretended dismay, his chair dropping to all fours. "Whiskey by th’ jug! I’m plain shocked, but mighty glad to see you, Mr. Blascom." He turned to the marshal. "Here, Officer! Shake han’s with Mr. Blascom, of Buffaler Crick. Give th’ gentleman a cordial welcome." Tex regarded the newcomer and his jug with languid interest. "Huh! I reckoned th’ drought would shore end some day, but I figgered on rain. However, facts are facts. Pleased to meet you, sir!" He waved at Tommy. "Pass it to our friend first. It’s dry work, settin’ here, listenin’ to me." "It’s like workin’ in pay-dirt," retorted Blascom. He tapped the jug and it rang out hollowly. "I ain’t give Baldy a chance at it, yet. Anyhow, a man’s got to have some protection ag’in’ snakes," he defended. "A protection ag’in’ snakes!" repeated Tex, thoughtfully. "Yes; he has." "I’ll pertect you ag’in’ ’em as far as th’ hotel," offered Tommy, arising and whistling to his horse, "seein’ as yo’re temporary defenseless. Come on, Blascom. See you later, Marshal," and he grabbed at the jug, missed it, and led the way, Tex smiling after the grinning pair.