"Meanin'?"
"Like as not he'll operate."
"Operate?"
"Cut us open, you derned fool!"
Dan retorted savagely: "Now ye're so near yer end, I'd go easy with
sech talk, if I was you."
"I beg yer pardon," said Pete, "but I'm scairt of the Perfessor's eye.
Anyways, sink or swim, I'll hev no man gittin' his knife into me."
Dan sat up.
"Boys," he said emphatically, "you kin do as you please, but I'm goin'
to hev a las' kind word with my Mame."
He slipped out of his bunk.
"Me too," said Jimmie. He glanced at Pete, who lay still. "My regards
to the Perfessor, and tell him that he'll find us at old man
Greiffenhagen's. I'll hev one more taste of happiness before I die."
Dan hauled out his battered trunk and opened it. Pete sat up.
"Talkin' o' tasting, so will I," said he. "Give me that ther demijohn.
I'll die like the Dook o' Clarence."
Jimmie picked up the demijohn and looked at it with lingering eyes.
"Sorry I promised Maw to let whisky alone."
"If it comes to that," said Pete, "what's the matter with callin' it
medicine?"
"Gee! So it is." He took out the cork and tipped up the demijohn,
balancing it skilfully upon his right forearm.
"Pass it over," said Pete.
"After you," added Dan.
"Go easy," said Pete shortly. "You two fellers mean to expire in the
arms o' ministerin' angels. Leave the demijohn with me."
"What! You'd hog all the medicine? Why, Pete Holloway, I thought you
was white!"
"Put that demijohn down."
Dan glanced at Jimmie, who was drawing on his best pants.
"Say, Jimmie, we'll hev to take the medicine along. There's a plenty
for Pete in the cellar."
Pete slipped out of his bunk.
"Look ye here," he said. "I ain't goin' to face the Perfessor alone.
I'll come with ye, but let there be no huggin' before me; and, I say,
divide the medicine."
"Now yer talkin'," said Dan, approvingly.
The three men dressed rapidly, opened the door, and peered out. Nobody
being in sight, they secured three empty bottles, which they filled
with the medicine. Five minutes later they were leading their saddle-
horses out of the barn. Unobserved, they mounted and took the road.
"How air you two feelin'?" said Pete, as they broke into an easy
"lope."
"Thunder and Mars!" exclaimed Dan. "It's a doggoned fact, but I'm
feeling fine."
"It's the medicine," said Jimmie, athirst for more.
"The Perfessor's a stem-winder, an' no mistake," said Pete. "Let's
drink his health--onst."
They did so--twice.
Old man Greiffenhagen's was about two miles distant. With him lodged
Miss Edna Parkinson and Miss Mary Willing. These young ladies were
bosom friends, and members of the Women's Christian Temperance Union.
We describe them adequately enough by adding that they were capable,
pretty and good.
By this time it was nearly nine o'clock, but a light shone in the
Greiffenhagen parlour. As the young men dismounted and hitched their
horses to the fence, the strains from an American organ were heard.
Pete rapped upon the door, which was opened by Greiffenhagen. He kept
the village store, which was also the post-office, and, although
German himself, had married an American wife. Pete said in a loud
voice--
"It's kind o' late, but this is a P.P.C. call."
As he spoke, there was wafted to the nostrils of Greiffenhagen the
familiar fragrance of Bourbon. He glanced at Dan and Jimmie. Each
appeared almost abnormally sober and solemn. At this moment Miss Mary
Willing flitted up.
"Why, it's Mr. Holloway!" she exclaimed stiffly.
The three entered. As they passed the threshold, Jimmie stumbled, but
recovered himself. He saluted the ladies with decorum, and the three
sat down upon the edge of the chairs that were offered to them. Then
Miss Edna Parkinson, who was the only person present besides Pete who
understood what was meant by a P.P.C. call, and who knew also that,
the big _rodeo_ being over, it was possible that the three
cowboys had been discharged, said sympathetically--
"You ain't leaving these parts, are you?"