His face reddened as he recalled the boasts he had made upon several occasions and how far he had fallen short of fulfilling them. He was going to "show" them, and now all he had to offer in evidence was 160 acres gone to weeds and grasshoppers, his saddle, and the clothes he stood in. It was not often that Wallie stopped to take stock, for it was an uncomfortable process, but his failure seemed to thrust itself upon him this morning. He was glad when Pinkey's heavy breathing ceased in the cell adjoining and he began to grumble. "Looks like a town the size of Prouty would have a decent jail in it," he said, crossly. "They go and throw every Tom, Dick, and Harry in this here cell, and some buckaroo has half tore up the mattress." "You can't have your private cell, you know," Wallie suggested. "I've paid enough in fines to build a cooler the size of this one, and looks like I got a little somethin' comin' to me." "I suppose they don't take that view of it," said Wallie, "but you might speak to the Judge this morning." After a time Pinkey asked, yawning: "What did we do last night? Was we fightin'?" "I don't know--I haven't thought about it." "I guess the constable will mention it," Pinkey observed, drily. "He does, generally." "Let's make a circle and go and have a look at my place," Wallie suggested. "It's not far out of the way and we might pick up a few strays in that country." Pinkey agreed amiably and added: "You'll prob'ly have the blues for a week after." The key turning in the lock interrupted the conversation. "You two birds get up. Court is goin' to set in about twenty minutes." The constable eyed them coldly through the grating. "Where's my clothes?" Pinkey demanded, looking at the Law accusingly. "How should I know?" "I ain't no more pants than a rabbit!" Pinkey declared, astonished. "Nor I!" said Wallie. "You got all the clothes you had on when I put you here." "How kin we go to court?" "'Tain't fur." "Everybody'll look at us," Pinkey protested. The constable retorted callously: "Won't many more see you than saw you last night doin' the stomp dance in Main Street." "Did we do that?" Pinkey asked, startled. "Sure--right in front of the Prouty House, and Helene Spenceley and a lot of folks was lookin' out of the windows." Wallie sat down on the edge of his cot weakly. That settled it! He doubted if she would ever speak to him. "I've got customers waitin'," urged the constable, impatiently. "Wrap a soogan around you and step lively." There was nothing to do but obey, in the circumstances, so the shame-faced pair walked the short block to a hardware store in the rear of which the Justice of the Peace was at his desk to receive them. "Ten dollars apiece," he said, without looking up from his writing. "And half an hour to get out of town." Pinkey and Wallie looked at each other.