Bill Howland emerged from the six-by-six office of the F. S. and S. Stage Company and strolled down the street to where his Concord stood. He hitched up and, after examining the harness, gained his seat, gathered up the lines and yelled. There was a lurch and a rumble, and Bill turned the corner on two wheels to the gratification of sundry stray dogs, whose gratification turned to yelps of surprise and pain as the driver neatly flecked bits of hair from their bodies with his sixteen foot "blacksnake." Twice each week Bill drove his Concord around the same corner on the same two wheels and flecked bits of hair from stray dogs with the same whip. He would have been deeply grieved if the supply of new stray dogs gave out, for no dogs were ever known to get close enough to be skinned the second time; once was enough, and those which had felt the sting of Bill's leather were content to stand across the street and create the necessary excitement to urge the new arrivals forward. The local wit is reported as saying: "Dogs may come and dogs may go, but Bill goes on forever," which saying pleased Bill greatly. As he threw the mail bag on the seat the sheriff came up and watched him, his eyes a-twinkle with humor. "Well, Sheriff, how's the boy?" genially asked Bill, who could talk all day on anything and two days on nothing without fatigue. "All right, Bill, thank you," the sheriff replied. "I hope you are able to take something more than liquid nourishment," he added. "Oh, you trust me for that, Sheriff. When my appetite gives out I'll be ready to plant. I see your ear is some smaller. Blamed funny how they do swell sometimes," remarked the driver, loosening his collar. The sheriff knew what that action meant and hurried to break the thread of the conversation. "New wheel?" he asked, eying what he knew to be old. "Nope, painted, that's all," the driver replied, grinning. "But she shore does look new, don't she? You see, Dick put in two new spokes yesterday, and when I saw 'em I says, says I, 'Dick, that new wheel don't look good thataway,' says I. 'It'll look like a limp, them new spokes coming 'round all alone like,' says I. So we paints it, but we didn't have time to paint the others, but they won't make much difference, anyhow. Funny how a little paint will change things, now ain't it? Why, I can remember when-----" "Much mail nowadays?" interposed the sheriff calmly. "Nope. Folks out here ain't a-helpin' Uncle Sam much. Postmaster says he only sold ten stamps this week. What he wants, as I told him, is women. Then everybody'll be sendin' letters and presents and things. Now, I knows what I'm talking about, because-----" "The Apaches are out," jabbed the sheriff, hopefully.