“Yes. Will you take care of Loney, yes? He is a poor chilt, not quite right in his head, but good. He haf neider fader nor mudder, and I gif you Jake, mein horse. Dot Loney, he is goot und he vill vork for you ven he get a leetle fatter.” “All right, pardner. That goes.” “So does de horse, but not very goot. Dot horse, he neets more t’ings to eat, but ve been very poor lately, und de mens at de next place behint say dot dere vos lots of grass und t’ings here, und dot dey puts cream on de horse’s oats efery morning, mit hot piskits und peefsteak und parsley at noon. I don’t t’ink so, do you?” Shoshone was trying hard to keep a straight face. He now began to feel ashamed of the part he had taken in tormenting this poor man, and, above all, one who was “one of the craft” of operators. He determined that from now on he would act as his friend. Just as Shoshone turned, there was a sudden cloud of dust, and a horse came galloping up the road, and, as it approached, they saw a young man on its back, with his elbows and knees flying up and down, and in another minute the whole outfit resolved itself into Bennie--red and dusty, but undoubtedly Bennie: “Here I am, Papa Goldberg! Here I am!” shouted Bennie, as he tumbled off the horse and rushed to greet his friend. “Oh, de Bennie! I peen glat to see you! Haf you got any headache powders?” “Yes; here they are. I got your telegram and I followed. Have you any news of Dora?” “No, Bennie; none, but somehow I keep on dis vay und I t’ink I vill find her yet.” Then, turning to Shoshone: “If I die, Mister, please put on de stone, ‘Vilt Bill, he lif two hours; den he die!’” “All right, pardner.” “Oh, I must haf a glass of vater, to take de powters. Vere can I get de glass?” “Go to the saloon----” “Is dere no oder veres?” “You can go around the back of the house and get one at the kitchen.” “Den dot is vere I shall go. Come, Bennie, I vould not alone go. Oh, Mister, Mister! please don’t do vit’ de Bennie like vot you do mit me. He is de betrothed of mein Dora vot vas stolen und I vish him to lif to hunt for her. Please gif me your vord.” “I promise you,” said Shoshone, waiting for an introduction, in due form, to Bennie. He liked the frank young face of the “betrothed” of the lost Dora. But the shoemaker had not learned the etiquette of the range yet, and, with several groans, he took Bennie’s arm and they went around to the kitchen door for the glass of water. Shoshone had had his breakfast and so sat down upon an upturned bucket and lighted his companionable old pipe, and ruminated as he smoked. As he sat there, Loney came back, supposing he would find Mr. Goldberg, but as he was not at the watering-place the boy went to the tent and looked in, and then turned, frightened, as he saw it was empty. “Hallo, youngster!” said Shoshone kindly. “How do you do, Mister?” said Loney. “Did you see Mr. Goldberg--I mean Mr. Wild Bill? Which way did he go?”