Riles debated with himself whether the occasion justified the expenditure of ten cents for a drink when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and a voice said, "Have one with me, neighbour." He found himself addressed by a man of about his own age, shorter and somewhat lighter of frame and with a growing hint of corpulence. The stranger wore a good pepper-and-salt suit, and the stone on his finger danced like real diamond.
"Don't mind if I do, since y' mention it," said Riles, with an attempted smile which his bad eye rendered futile. One of the bartenders put something in his glass which cut all the way down, but Riles speedily forgot it in a more exciting incident. The man in the pepper-and-salt suit had laid half a dollar on the bar, and no change came back. Riles congratulated himself on his own narrow escape.
"You'll be looking for land?" inquired the stranger, when both were breathing easily again.
"Well, maybe I am, and maybe I ain't," said Riles guardedly. He had heard something of the ways of confidence men, and was determined not to be taken for an easy mark.
"A man of some judgment, I see," said his new acquaintance, quite unabashed. "Well, I don't blame you for keeping your own counsel. The rush of people and money into the West has brought all kinds of floaters in its train. Why"—with growing confidence—"the other night—"
What happened the other night remained untold, for at that moment came a clattering of horse's hoofs on the wooden walk at the door, and a moment later a gaily arrayed cowboy rode right into the room, his horse prancing and bodying from side to side to clear the crowd away, then facing up to the bar as though it were his manger. Riles expected trouble, and was surprised when the feat evoked a cheer from the bystanders.
"That's Horseback George," said the man in the pepper-and-salt. "They say he sleeps on his horse. Rides right into a bar as a matter of course, and maybe shoots a few bottles off the shelves as a demonstration before he goes out. But he always settles, and nobody mind his little peculiarities."
Horseback George treated himself twice, proffering each glass to his horse before touching it himself, and stroking with one hand the animal's ears as he raised the liquor to his lips. Then he threw a bill at the bar-tender and, with a wild whoop, slapped the horse's legs with his hat, and dashed at a gallop out of the bar-room and away down the trail.
The stranger was about to resume his conversation when a big fellow near by shouted in a loud, raucous voice, "Come, pard, set 'er up. Who's drinkin with me?"
No one answered, and the big man looked about the crowd with a deepening scowl.