kind of people he used to be used to. All he'd say was 'Bet your
life, old boy!' Well, it was right enough too, as Smithy had
nursed him through small-pox one winter up in the Shoshonee
country, and mighty near starved himself to death feeding Shadder
out of the slim grub stock, when the boy was on the mend; still
some people would have forgot that.

"But did your uncle Red get under the influence of strong drink?
DID he? Oh _my_! Oh MY! I wish I could make it clear to you.
The vigilantes put after a horse thief once in Montana, and they
landed on him in a butt-end canon, and there was all the stock with
the brands on 'em as big as a patent medicine sign, as the lad
hadn't had time to stop for alterations.

"'Well,' says they, 'what have you got to say for yourself?' He
looked at them brands staring him in the face, and he bit off a
small hunk of chewing 'Ptt-chay!' Says he, 'Gentlemen, I'm at a
loss for words!' And they let him go, as a good joke is worth its
price in any man's country. I'm in that lad's fix; I ain't got the
words to tell you how seriously drunk I was on that occasion. I
remember putting for what I thought was the hotel, and settling
down, thinking there must be a lulu of a scrap in the barroom from
the noise; then somebody gave me a punch in the ribs and says,
'Where's your ticket?' and I don't know what I said nor what he
said after that, but it must have been all right. Then it got
light and I met a lot of good friends I never saw before nor since;
then more noise and trouble and at last I woke up.--in a hotel
bedroom, all right, but not the one I was used to. I went to the
window, heaved her open and looked out. It was a bully morning and
I felt A1. There was a nice range of mountains out in front of me