I was surprised enough to find that Sax had opened a grocery store.
"Thanks," says I, and swung in the saddle.
Oriñez raised a hand, playful.
"Geeve me some other ho-r-r-r-se!" says he. "Bin' opp my wounds!" he laughed. "By-by, Beel, r-remember me, as I shall remember ju!"
"Good-by, Mr. Oriñez," says I. He called after me, "Eef you need a frien', there is Oriñez!"
"Same to you, old man!" I says, and swings around the corner.
Saxton was working outside the store, overseeing the unloading of some wagons. It was a large store, with a big stock, and Sax was busy as a hound-pup at a rabbit-hole. I rubbed my eyes. Somehow the last thing I expected to see Sax was a storekeeper. I slipped up and put my hands on his shoulders to surprise him. It surprised him all right. I felt the muscles jump under the coat, although he stood still enough, and he whirled on me with an ugly look in his eye.
I think, perhaps, of all the unpleasant positions a man can get himself into, that of a playful friendly fit gone wrong will bring the sweat out the quickest—you do feel such a fool!
"Beg your pardon, Arthur," says I, fairly cool, as really I hadn't done anything for him to get so wrathy about.
But he got the best of himself at once, and the old, kind smile came, taking out the lines that changed his face so.