“Monty,” she said, and paused for effect—“Monty, seeing that you have had more adventures than all the cowboys together, tell us about the most terrible time you ever had.” Monty appeared startled at the question that fastened all eyes upon him. He waved a deprecatory hand. “Aw, Miss Hammond, thankin’ you all modest-like fer the compliment, I’ll hev to refuse,” replied Monty, laboring in distress. “It’s too harrowin’ fer tender-hearted gurls to listen to.” “Go on?” cried everybody except the cowboys. Nels began to nod his head as if he, as well as Monty, understood human nature. Dorothy hugged her knees with a kind of shudder. Monty had fastened the hypnotic eyes upon her. Castleton ceased smoking, adjusted his eyeglass, and prepared to listen in great earnestness. Monty changed his seat to one where the light from the blazing logs fell upon his face; and he appeared plunged into melancholy and profound thought. “Now I tax myself, I can’t jest decide which was the orfulest time I ever hed,” he said, reflectively. Here Nels blew forth an immense cloud of smoke, as if he desired to hide himself from sight. Monty pondered, and then when the smoke rolled away he turned to Nels. “See hyar, old pard, me an’ you seen somethin’ of each other in the Panhandle, more ’n thirty years ago—” “Which we didn’t,” interrupted Nels, bluntly. “Shore you can’t make me out an ole man.” “Mebbe it wasn’t so darn long. Anyhow, Nels, you recollect them three hoss-thieves I hung all on one cottonwood-tree, an’ likewise thet boo-tiful blond gurl I rescooed from a band of cutthroats who murdered her paw, ole Bill Warren, the buffalo-hunter? Now, which of them two scraps was the turriblest, in your idee?” “Monty, my memory’s shore bad,” replied the unimpeachable Nels. “Tell us about the beautiful blonde,” cried at least three of the ladies. Dorothy, who had suffered from nightmare because of a former story of hanging men on trees, had voicelessly appealed to Monty to spare her more of that. “All right, we’ll hev the blond gurl,” said Monty, settling back, “though I ain’t thinkin’ her story is most turrible of the two, an’ it’ll rake over tender affections long slumberin’ in my breast.” As he paused there came a sharp, rapping sound. This appeared to be Nels knocking the ashes out of his pipe on a stump—a true indication of the passing of content from that jealous cowboy.