"For them as likes him. Well, friend, I’m mushin’ on. Name’s Blascom." "Tex Jones is my _nom du guerre_," replied Tex. "Th’ north is a better country than this for minin’. How’d you ever come to leave it?" Blascom looked at him questioningly. "Yes, reckon it is; but how’d you know I come from there?" "They don’t mush nowhere else that I know of," chuckled Tex. He coiled the dusty lariat, shook it, and brushed his chaps where it had touched, waved his farewell; and went on to Carney’s, where he dismounted and went in. "Just met Whiskey Jim," he said across the bar. "I congratulate you." "Who’s he livin’ on?" "Th’ whole town," answered Carney. "He used to hang around here, seein’ what he could steal, but I kicked his pants around his neckband an’ he ain’t favorin’ me no more. Reckon he belongs to Williams." "Then he must do somethin’ for his keep," suggested Tex. "Our friend Gustavus Adolphus ain’t no philanthropist, I’m bettin’." "No; Gus is a Republican," replied Carney. "Whiskey Jim used to ride for him, an’ mebby Gus is scared not to look after him a little." Tex nodded. "Good reason; good, plain, practical, common-sense reason. Now, Carney--I want a good hoss for a lady, an’ I’ll have a little ride on it before I turn it over. Want it tomorrow mornin’ at eight o’clock." "Miss Saunders won’t thank you much for tirin’ it out." "You couldn’t help guessin’ right th’ first time," accused Tex. "There ain’t no other ladies that I’ve seen or heard about. What th’ lady don’t know won’t hurt her pride or spoil her appetite. Cuss it, man; I ain’t aimin’ to kill th’ beast!" "I reckon you know what yo’re goin’ to do with th’ hoss," replied Carney, thoughtfully; "but I wonder do you know what yo’re doin’, goin’ ridin’ with that little lady?" Tex regarded him with level gaze. "Meanin’?" he coldly demanded. "Meanin’ that claim is staked, th’ notices posted, an’ trespassers warned off; which is a d--d shame!" "Hearsay ain’t no good. I ain’t been formally notified in writin’," replied Tex. "Until I am, I act natural; an’ after I am, twice as natural, bein’ mean by nature an’ disposition. All of which reminds me that this is a remarkable town, an’ that there’s a re-markable man in it." His companion studied him for a moment. "You should keep yore hat on when yo’re ridin’ around in th’ sun. Th’ only remarkable thing about this town is that it’s still alive. Th’ only remarkable man in it has been buried these last twenty years, up yonder on Boot Hill."