"Oh, that's the racket, is it? Well, you tell that deputy that I've got cattle in that brand and I've got a bill of sale for 'em, all regular, but I've yet to see the deputy sheriff that can collect taxes off of me. D'ye think I'm goin' to chip in to help pay the salary of a man that makes a business of rollin' drunks and throwin' honest workingmen into the hoosegatho when he's in town? Ump-um—guess again!" He motioned for a drink and Babe regarded him curiously as he set out the bottle. "You been readin' the _Voice_, I reckon," he said, absent-mindedly pouring out a drink for himself. "Well, say, did you read that article on the fee system? It's all true, Pardner, every word of it, and more! I'm a man of good family and education—I was brought up right and my folks are respectable people—and yet every time I go to Geronimo they throw me into jail. Two-twenty-five, that's what they do it for—and there I have to lay, half the time with some yegg or lousy gang of hobos, until they git ready to turn me loose. And they call that justice! Pecos, I'm going back to Geronimo—I'm going to stand on the corner, just the way I used to when I was drunk, and tell the people it's all _wrong_! You're a good man, Pecos—Cumrad—will you go with me?" Pecos stood and looked at him, wondering. "Comrade" sounded good to him; it was the word they used in the _Voice of Reason_—"Comrade Jones has just sent us in four more subscriptions. That's what throws a crook into the tail of monopoly. Bully for you, Comrade!" But with all his fervor he did not fail to notice the droop to Angy's eyes, the flush on his cheeks, and the slack tremulousness of his lips—in spite of his solemn resolutions Angy had undoubtedly given way to the Demon Drink. "Nope," he said, "I like you, Angy, but they'd throw us both in. You'd better stay up here and watch me put it on Crit. 'Don't rope a bigger bull than you can throw,' is my motto, and Old Crit is jest my size. I'm goin' to comb his hair with a six-shooter or I'll have my money—and then if that dog-robber of a deputy sheriff shows up I'll—well, he'd better not crowd me, that's all. Here's to the revolution—will you drink it, old Red-eye?" Angy drank it, and another to keep it company.