fat neck.

"I do," was the surly rejoinder. "Got any kick comin'?"

"Nary kick." The cowpuncher tossed his dollar onto the bar. "Give me a
little red licker," he ordered, and grinned at the sullen proprietor as
he filled his glass to the brim.

"An outfit," he confided, with slow insolence, "that'll run an eagle-bird
wheel ain't got no more conscience than a _hombre's_ got brains that'll
buck one. In Texas we'd shoot a man full of little holes that 'ud try
it."

"Why'n you stay in Texas, then?" growled the other.

The cowman drank his liquor and refilled the glass. "Most fat men," he
imparted irrelevantly, "are plumb mindful that they're easy hit, an'
consequent they're cheerful-hearted an' friendly. Likewise, they mind
their own business, which is also why they've be'n let grow to onhuman
proportions. But, not to seem oncivil to a stranger, an' by way of
gettin' acquainted, I'll leak it out that it ain't no fault of Texas that
I come away from there--but owin' only to a honin' of mine to see more of
the world than what Texas affords.

"The way to see a world," I debates, "is like anythin' else--begin at the
bottom an' work up. So I selects seventy-five dollars an' hits fer Las
Vegas."

The fat man pocketed the dollar and replaced it with a greasy fifty-cent
piece, an operation which the Texan watched with interest as he swallowed