"Aw! But this what I saw was gold!" exploded Tex.

"So was mine, for a while!" laughed Frenchy, nodding to the
bartender for another round.

"Well, we're tired of punchin' cows! Ride sixteen hours a day, year
in an' year out, an' what do we get? Fifty a month an' no chance to
spend it, an' grub that'd make a coyote sniffle! I'm for a vacation,
an' if I goes broke, why, I'll punch again!" asserted Waffles, the
foreman, thus revealing the real purpose of the trip.

"What'd yore boss say?" Asked Frenchy.

"Whoop! What didn't he say! Honest, I never thought he had it in
him. It was fine. He cussed an hour frontways an' then trailed back on
a dead gallop, with us a-laughin' fit to bust. Then he rustles for his
gun an' we rustles for town," answered Waffles, laughing at his
remembrance of it.

As Frenchy was about to reply his sombrero was snatched from his
head and disappeared. If he "got mad" he was to be regarded as not
sufficiently well acquainted for banter and he was at once in hot
water; if he took it good-naturedly he was one of the crowd in spirit;
but in either case he didn't get his hat without begging or fighting
for it. This was a recognized custom among the O-Bar-O outfit and was
not intended as an insult.

Frenchy grabbed at the empty air and arose. Punching Lefty playfully
in the ribs he passed his hands behind that person's back. Not finding
the lost head-gear he laughed and, tripping Lefty up, fell with him