melting glance at the bottles behind the bar, doing much to explain
the size of his first drink.

"Like it, do ye?" questioned Bailey indicating the shelf.

"Well, not exactly! Booze is like air--I need it. It makes a new
man out of me--and usually ends by gettin' both me and the new one
laid off."

"Didn't hear nothing of the weddin' over at Los Huecos, did ye?"

"No! Whose weddin'?"

"Ross Turney, the new sheriff."

"Ye don't say! Him that's been elected on purpose to round up the
Tremper gang, hey? Who's his antagonist?"

"Old man Miller's gal. He's celebratin' his election by gettin'
spliced. I been expectin' of 'em across this way to-night, but I
guess they took the Black Butte trail. You heard what he said,
didn't ye? Claims that inside of ninety days he'll rid the county of
the Trempers and give the reward to his wife for a bridal present.
Five thousand dollars on 'em, you know." Bailey grinned evilly and
continued: "Say! Marsh Tremper'll ride up to his house some night
and make him eat his own gun in front of his bride, see if he don't.
Then there'll be cause for an inquest and an election." He spoke
with what struck the teamster as unnecessary heat.

"Dunno," said the other; "Turney's a brash young feller, I hear, but