Cheyenne frowned prodigiously. "Steve," he said slowly, "you can
lovin'ly and trustfully go plumb to hell!"

Cheyenne turned and limped slowly toward the bunk-house.

Mrs. Brown welcomed Bartley as the Senator ushered him into the
living-room. The Senator half-filled a tumbler from a cold, dark bottle
and handed it to Bartley.

"'Green River,'" he said.

"Mrs. Brown," said Bartley as he bowed.

Then the Senator escorted Bartley to the bathroom. The tub was already
filled with steaming water. A row of snow-white towels hung on the rack.
The Senator waved his hand and, stepping out, closed the door.

A few minutes later he knocked at the bathroom door. "There's a spare
razor in the cabinet, and all the fixings. And when you're ready there's
a pair of clean socks on the doorknob."

Bartley heard the Senator's heavy, deliberate step as he passed down the
hallway.

"A little 'Green River,' a hot bath, and clean socks," murmured Bartley.
"Things might be worse."

His tired muscles relaxed under the beneficent warmth of the bath. He
shaved, dressed, and stepped out into the hall. He sniffed. "Chicken!"
he murmured soulfully.