Roy removed his sombrero and ran his finger around the sweat band, bringing it forth as wet as though he had dipped it in a pail of water.
“I’m not worrying about Froud,” he stated, picking up his reins, which he had allowed to fall loosely on Star’s neck. “He’s had his turn and has said his little piece. He won’t do any more talking in public for a long time. But I tell you, Teddy, that puncher with the riding slouch has got me thinking. How about it—was he one of the rustlers?”
“Question—who struck Bill Patterson?” Teddy grinned. “That reminds me. Mother said that Curly—”
“Leaping lizards!” Roy groaned. “Can’t you be serious for a minute? This is important, I tell you! Suppose the rustlers—er—well, suppose they—”
“No! They couldn’t do that! You know they couldn’t! That ’ud be fearful—simply fearful! And, besides, I think it’s going to rain to-morrow. No rustler wants to go out in the rain. ’Cause why? ’Cause somebody has to tell them to come in, and if there’s no one around, they just get al-l-l-l wet.”
“And there’s another thing,” Roy went on, ignoring his brother’s somewhat sarcastic levity. “What or who is ‘Reltsur?’ I mean the name that was signed to the note.”
“I know!” Teddy’s face was alight with a sudden idea. “There’s a fellow down at Eagles who just came to town. Gus Tripp was telling me about him—said he saw him when he rode in for the mail yesterday. Well, this geezer—”
“What about him?” Roy asked eagerly.
“He sells patent medicine! And I bet Reltsur is the name of one of his cures. Good for man or beast—positive cure or your money back. Read our testimonials. Mr. L. J. McPhoff, of Chickawalla, says: ‘I have used Reltsur now for thirteen years. When I started I was only twenty years old. Now, I’m thirty-three.’ Or hear what Mr. Specknoodle reports: ‘I highly recommend Reltsur for—’ Hey, cut it out! Don’t get that hat dirty!”
But it was too late. Roy had scaled his brother’s sombrero as far as he could. Then he clucked to Star, and, yelling like an Indian, bore down upon the hat.