“Cowboys goin’ to a dance, eh?” Slim Hunter stopped to look them over.
“Introducin’ to you,” said Harp seriously, “the effect of tobacco and alcohol on the intestines.”
“Jist when do I laugh?” asked Slim.
“Next time yuh go to the bar.”
“Uh-huh,” Slim grinned and went on. He had no idea what Harp meant.
“What’ll make him laugh when he goes to the bar?” queried Banty.
“He’ll be facin’ the bar,” said Harp wearily, “and the back-bar mirror ought to show him what I meant.”
“Haw, haw, haw! Aw, this tie! Can’t even laugh. C’mon and help me find a guy-rope. By golly, I won’t stand for my own clothes slappin’ me in the mouth.”
They crossed the street and procured a length of string at a general store, with which they secured the tie to a suspender button, much to Banty’s delight. Then they went upstairs into the dance hall, where the floor was rapidly filling for the first quadrille.
It was possibly an hour later when Brick and Silent dismounted at the hitch-rack across the street from the Short Horn saloon. Whizzer had slept nearly all the way, but he was awake now and Silent turned him over to Brick.