Tom found a weak grin. "Yes, so be it. We place ourselves and guide under your orders, though I reserve the right to beat him to a pleasing pulp when he gets sober enough to feel it. At present he reclines ungracefully within." "You mean you got a drunk guide, in there?" demanded Bill angrily. "He feels the yearning right away," observed George. "We ’ll have to take turns thrashing Bacchus, I fear." "How long’s he been that way?" demanded Bill. "I have n’t known him long enough to answer that," responded Tom. "I doubt if he were ever really sober. He is a peripatetic distillery and I believe he lived on blotters even as a child. The first day—" "—hour," inserted George. "—he became anxious about the condition of the rear axle and examined it so frequently that by night he had slipped back into the Stone Age—he was ossified and petrified. He could neither see, eat nor talk. Strange creatures peopled his imagination. He shot at one before we could get his gun away from him, and it was our best skillet. How the devil he could hit it is more than I know. At this moment he may be fleeing from green tigers." "Beg pardon," murmured George. "At this moment I have my foot on his large, unwashed face." "Why, George! You’ll hurt him!" gasped Mollie. "No such luck. He ’s beyond feeling." "But you will! It isn’t right to—" "Don’t bother your head about him, Sis," interrupted Tom, savagely. "Sure," grinned George. "Save your sympathy until he gets sober. He’ll need some then." "Now, George, there is no use of having an argument," she retorted, turning to face him. And as she turned Bill took quick advantage. One finger slipped around his scalp and ended in a jerky, lifting motion that was horribly suggestive. His other hand and arm swept back and around, the gesture taking in the hills; and at the same time he nodded emphatically toward the rear of the wagon, where Jimmy was slowly going. Across the faces of the brothers there flashed in quick succession mystification, apprehensive doubt, fear and again doubt. But a sudden backward jerk of Bill’s head made them glance at the ruined ’dobe and the doubt melted into fear, and remained. George was the first to reply and he spoke to his sister. "As long as you fear for his facial beauty, Sis, I ’ll look for a better place for my foot," and he disappeared behind the drooping canvas. Jimmy’s words were powerful, if terse, and George returned to the seat a very thoughtful man. He took instant advantage of his sister’s conversation with Bill and whispered hurriedly into his brother’s ear. A faint furrow showed momentarily on Tom’s forehead, but swiftly disappeared, and he calmly filled his pipe as he replied. "Oh, he ’ll sober up," he said. "We poured the last of it out. And I have a great deal of confidence in these two gentlemen." Bill smiled as he answered Mollie’s question. "Yes, we did have a bad fire," he said. "It plumb burned us out, ma’am."