"Looks that way."
"Oh, well," said Doc, slapping down a quarter, "fill 'em up."
Al heaped up the glasses, adding an appreciative extra dab with the magnanimity of the victor, and said:
"Say, you boys want to rub up a little. Here's Stover, over there, just come. He's about your size."
The Tennessee Shad and Doc Macnooder about faced and stared at Stover, who all the while had remained in quiet obscurity, dangling his legs over the counter.
"Just come, Stover?" said Macnooder at last.
"Yes, sir."
"On the noon stage?"
"Yes, sir."