“Thar’s a prisoner in thar,” doubtfully observed the proprietor of the Midland, who was acting as guide to Mr. Masterson’s investigations, “an’ as he mostly cusses all night, he may disturb you.” “Disturb me?” repeated the bogus Mr. Brown. “Never! I know of nothing more soothing to the slumbers of an honest man than the howls of the wicked under punishment.” Being installed, Mr. Masterson’s earliest care was to provide himself with a demijohn of Midland whiskey; for he had noted an encarmined nose as a facial property of Mr. Smart, and that florid feature inspired a plan. There would be a train from the West at three o’clock A. M.; it was now two o’clock P. M. This would give Mr. Masterson thirteen hours wherein to ripen his device; and thirteen is a fortunate number! When Mr. Masterson passed Mr. Smart in the hall, bearing—as the Greeks bore gifts—that engaging demijohn, he spake casually yet pleasantly with Mr. Smart; and next, after a fashion perfect in the West, he invited Mr. Smart to sample those wares which the demijohn contained. Mr. Smart tasted, and said it was the Midland’s best. Upon this promising discovery Mr. Masterson proposed a second libation, which courtesy Mr. Smart embraced. Mr. Masterson apologized to Mr. Smart for a thoughtlessness that had asked him to drink with a total stranger. He made himself known to Mr. Smart as “Mr. Brown of Hays.” Mr. Masterson remarked that he would go abroad in Ogallala about the transaction of what mythical business had brought him to its shores. Meanwhile, the demijohn was just inside his door. Would Mr. Smart do him the honour to cheer his vigils with such references to the demijohn as it might please him to make? Mr. Masterson was about to depart when a volley of bad words was heard to issue from Cimarron’s room. The voice was strong and full, and fraught of a fine resolution; this delighted Mr. Masterson as showing Cimarron to be in no sort near the door of death. A second volley climbed the transom to reverberate along the hall, and Mr. Masterson, jerking the thumb of inquiry, asked: “Any gent with him?” “No,” responded Mr. Smart, leering amiably, albeit indefinitely, “no; he’s plumb alone. He’s jes’ swearin’ at a mark.” When Mr. Masterson returned he found Mr. Smart blurred and incoherent. It was no part of Mr. Masterson’s policy to reduce Mr. Smart to a condition which should alarm the caution of Ogallala, and cause it to relieve his guard. Mr. Smart was the man for the place; to preserve him therein, Mr. Masterson withdrew the demijohn from circulation. Mr. Smart, even through the happy mists which enveloped him, spoke well of this step. After supper, the demijohn could be recalled. The friendship which Mr. Smart and Mr. Masterson had conceived for one another might then be expanded, and its foundation deepened and secured. Thus sufficiently if not distinctly spake Mr. Smart; and Mr. Masterson coincided with him at every angle of his argument.