“Who said anything about horse stealin’?” demanded Ricky.
Zeb squinted his eyes and looked Ricky over carefully from heels to hat.
“Say, Ricky, jist about what in the devil did that feller arrest yuh for?”
“Hittin’ uh Chinaman,” chuckled Ricky, between puffs.
“Hittin’ uh Chinaman!” exploded Zeb. “What fer?”
“Zeb—” Ricky leaned over and put his hand on Zeb’s shoulder and a humorous light twinkled in his gray eyes—“I hadn’t no more than sat down in that restaurant until one uh them danged slant-eyed celestials comes over to me and says, ‘You likee some nice roast mutton?’”
Zeb reached over and shook hands solemnly with Ricky and then turned his horse down the left-hand fork of the road.
“Ricky,” he laughed, “‘let’s git a-goin’. This country is all wool but she ain’t wide enough fer me and you.”
THE END
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the October, 1916 issue of Adventure magazine.