"I said my B.V.D.'s," he indicated his under-garments; "these would be preferable to those muddy trousers and that shirt." "Oh, that's the brand of your longerie. Don't wear none myself, except in winter, an' then thick ones. I've scrutinized them kind, though, more or less thorough--hangin' on lines around nesters' places an' home ranches, when I'd be ridin' through. Never noticed none with B.V.D. on 'em, though. The brand most favoured around here has got XXXX FLOUR printed acrost the broad of 'em, an' I've always judged 'em as belongin' to the opposin' sect." Endicott chuckled as he gingerly arrayed himself in the damp garments and when he was dressed, Tex regarded him quizzically: "Them belongin's of yourn sure do show neglect, Win." Endicott started at the word. It was the first time any one had abbreviated his name, and instantly he remembered the words of Alice Marcum: "If you keep on improving some day somebody is going to call you Win." He smiled grimly. "I must be improving," he muttered, under his breath, "I would pass anywhere for a tramp." From beyond the fire Tex continued his scrutiny, the while he communed with himself: "Everything's fair, et cetry, as the fellow says, an' it's a cinch there ain't no girl goin' to fall no hell of a ways for any one rigged out like a last year's sheepherder. But, damn it! he done me a good turn--an' one that took guts to do. 'Tain't no use in chasin' the devil around the stump---- If I can get that girl I'm a-goin' to get her! If I do I'll wire in some creek an' turn nester or do any other damned thing that's likewise mean an' debasin' that she wants me to--except run sheep. But if the pilgrim's got the edge, accordin' to Bat's surmise, he's got it fair an' square. The cards is on the table. It's him or me for it--but from now on the game's on the level." Aloud he said: "Hope you don't mind havin' your name took in vain like I done, but it's a habit of mine to get names down to a workin' basis when I've got to use 'em frequent. Bat, there, his folks started him off with a name that sounded like the Nicene Creed, but we bobbed her down for handy reference, an' likewise I ain't be'n called Horatio since the paternal roof-tree quit sproutin' the punitive switch. But, to get down to cases, you fellows have got to hike back to the camp an' hole up 'til dark. There's bound to be someone ridin' this here coulee an' you got to keep out of sight. I'm goin' to do a little scoutin', an' I'll join you later. It ain't only a couple of miles or so an' you better hit for the high ground an' cross the divide. Don't risk goin' through the canyon." Endicott glanced apprehensively at his mud encased silk socks, the feet of which were already worn through in a dozen places. "Where's your slippers!" asked Tex, catching the glance. "My shoes? I threw them away last night before I took to the water."