"Why—Jean—the man is—drunk, is he not?" whispered the Elder.
"But he's alright—gets that way when he comes to town, but is perfectly safe withal." The Reverend stood for a moment, regarding the other dubiously.
"Come on, brother, and meet me!" called the German again in a voice sufficiently loud almost to awaken the dead.
"But, Jean," said the Reverend, lowly but apprehensively, "I don't know whether I want to ride with a drunken man or not."
Now it happened that the German's ears were very keen, and he overheard the Elder's remark, so without ceremony, and while the Reverend hesitated on the pavement, the German who did not like to be referred to as drunk, roared:
"Ah-ha! Naw, naw, naw! You don't have to ride with me! Naw, naw, naw!" And turning his horses about, he went back to the saloon where his voice rang forth a minute later in a raucous tune as he unloaded another schooner.
The Reverend beat a hasty retreat back into the hotel, while Baptiste called after him:
"I'll send Orlean for you in the morning," and went to look up his neighbor who had made himself so conspicuous.
"Well, now, if this doesn't beat all," cried the Reverend when he had kissed his daughter the following morning and they were spinning along the road on the way to the farm. "I would never have believed three months ago had some one said you could and would be driving these mules!"