My husband showed me your letter and I write to say we will be glad to have you come any time and stay with us as long as you like. He has talked a whole lot about you and little Lafe always remembers you in his prayers. He don't like to say his prayers he's like his father. We have a nice home in the cannon and it will do you good it is so high up here. Yours respectfully, MRS. JOHNSON. P.S. My husband is writing to you, too. Lafe took this letter and enclosed one of his own composition, together with several very worn bills which he extracted from a can behind the kitchen clock. And just after daybreak he started for Badger to the end that the letter might be carried to a railway town by the stage driver. While he was making some purchases of flour and groceries that Hetty had itemized on a piece of wrapping paper as an aid to memory, one of the loungers remarked to Johnson that he heard Buffalo Jim had had the nerve to try to borrow some money. It puzzled him how some people would beat their way through the world. "It does, does it?" Lafe answered, in a nutmeg-grater voice. "Well, it oughtn't to. Any time ol' Buf'lo wants anything, he knows where he can get it quick. Understand? Who done told you that? The man who told you that was a liar. And if there's anybody here got something to get off his mind about Buf'lo, now's the time. I'm a-listening." Nobody had anything to get off his mind, it would seem. Having given ample opportunity, Johnson gathered up his parcels, tied them carefully to various parts of the saddle, and departed for home. He did not regard the incident in Badger of sufficient importance to communicate to his wife. CHAPTER XL HE ARRIVES TO VISIT THE JOHNSONS Shortredge arrived in a buckboard, driven by Jeff Hardin, toward the close of a July day. They were visible a mile off, but Johnson did not step down from the porch until they pulled up. Then he went slowly to meet them. It took a long time for Buffalo to get clear of the conveyance, he was so shaky and uncertain on his legs. "Hello, Lafe." "Hello, Buf'lo." They clasped hands and regarded each other uncomfortably. Then Shortredge paid the driver and the two friends walked to the porch, where Hetty was waiting to welcome the visitor. Such was the greeting between them after five years. "Poor feller," said Johnson, when they had retired that night. "He's looking worse'n a ghost." "Oh, Lafe, when I look at him I want to cry. To think we ever--" "He was the stoutest man I ever set eyes on, once, ol' Buf'lo was. But he never would take no care of himself. That, and ridin' broncs, it sort of stove him all up, Hetty. I'm sure glad I done asked him here."