Emerging half a minute later he blurted out his tale of woe: "Every time I blows myself an' don't drink it all in town some slab-sided maverick freezes to it.

It's gone," he added, dismally.
"Too bad, Billy--but what is it ?" asked Skinny.
"What is it?
Wha'd yu think it was, you emaciated match?
Jewelry?
Cayuses?
It's whisky--two simoleons' worth.

Some-thin's allus wrong.

This here whole yearth's wrong, just like that cross-eyed sky pilot said over to--" "Will yu let up ?" Yelled Red, throwing a sombrero at the grumbling unfortunate.

"Yu ask Buck where yore tanglefoot is.
"I'd shore look nice askin' th' boss if he'd rustled my whisky, wouldn't I?
An' would yu mind throwin' somebody else's hat?
I paid twenty wheels for that eight years ago, and I don't want it mussed none." "Gee, yore easy! Why, Ah Sing, over at Albuquerque, gives them away every time yu gits yore shirt washed," gravely interposed Hopalong as he went out to cuss the cook.
"Well, what'd yu think of that ?" Exclaimed Billy in an injured tone.
"Oh, yu needn't be hikin' for Albuquerque--WasheeWashee'ud charge yu double for washin' yore shirt.