love.

"Nick, you 're drunk," said Tuttle reprovingly.

"You 're away off, Tom! I was yesterday, but I 've been teetotallin'
ever since I came into this room last night, and the whole Arizona
desert ain't in it with my throat this mornin'! I want six cocktails!"

"No, you don't," the other interrupted decisively. "You-all can have
some coffee," and he stepped back to the door and gave the order.

Ellhorn sat up and looked with indignant surprise at his friend. "Tom
Tuttle--" he began.

"Shut up!" Tuttle interrupted. "Come and soak your head."

Ellhorn submitted to the head-soaking without protest, but drank his
coffee with grumblings that it was not coffee, but cocktails, that he
wanted.

"Nick, ain't you-all ashamed of yourself?" Tuttle asked severely. But
it was anxiety rather than reproof that was evident in his large, round
face and blue eyes. His fair skin was tanned and burned to a bright
red, and against its blazing color glowed softly a short, tawny
mustache.

"No, Tommy, not yet," Nick replied cheerfully. "It's too soon. It's
likely I will be to-morrow, or mebbe even this afternoon. But not now.
You-all ought to be more reasonable."