“And your mother back in Nebraska on that quarter-section, like I heard you tellin' Miss Ferguson at supper last night, looking anxious to you to remit... and that handsome brunette down in Albuquerque that cost you such a pot of money.... Say, Mr. Bunny, you got to do some mighty close figurin', ain't you, to make both ends meet?” “Just between ourselves, Brown, you can cut out the mother,—but I was giving it to you straight about the other.” “Well, I see you got all the feelings of a high-priced man; it naturally fusses you to think how Miss Ferguson's taken advantage of you. Dollar fifty,—why, that ain't whisky money for an ambitious fellow like you.” “You're right, it ain't,” said Mr. Bunny, shaking his head ominously. “I'm going to pull out of here soon. Say, Brown,—” he continued confidentially, “I could take her away from him—” and he nodded in the direction of the Mountain House. Mr. Brown understood he was referring to Mollie now. “Just as easy as nothing. All I got to do is just to crook my finger at her,—see?” said Mr. Bunny. “But pshaw! I don't marry. They none of 'em ketch me. I'll have my fun with a fair-looker, spend my money on her, but there ain't an ounce of matrimony in my system.” And into Brown's ears he poured a tale of triumphant sin, giving Mr. Brown to understand that he, Bunny, was a bee among the flowers. Brown was viewing the gun on Bunny's manly hip with a wistful eye. It had been years since he had renounced such vanities. Bunny leaned over to pick up a stone. “Say,—what in blazes you up to?” he cried, for Brown had deftly slipped the gun from its holster. He fell back a step and gave Bunny the benefit of his good eye. Mr. Bunny was instantly conscious of a cold feeling at the pit of his stomach. “Say, you give me back my gun!” And he began to bluster. “Forget it!” said Mr. Brown softly. “If a man took that trail and kept moving, he'd be in Alvarado by to-morrow night——” “Give me back my gun, Mr. Brown——” “I never did believe in these here private irrigation projects,” said Brown. “And I don't believe you're the man to put this one through.” He drew back the hammer of the gun. “Say—it's loaded, Mr. Brown—” cried Bunny. “Look out!” “Of course it's loaded. I wouldn't insult you by thinking you packed an empty gun. You keep moving at a reasonable rate of speed and you can be counting the lamp-posts in Alvarado tomorrow night,—seven on Main Street, and four on Prairie Avenue. You're wasting your time here.... No,—you don't need to go down to the Mountain House—you can start here!” “Say, she's owing me money, Mr. Brown. A man wants what lie's earned, don't he?” said Bunny meekly, but disposed to raise an issue. “Of course he does,—but he don't want what he ain't earned.” Brown looked at him with weary petulance. “Ain't you open to a hunch?” The muzzle of the gun menaced Bunny, who fell back a step in consternation, ducked, turned and fled shamelessly.