The strangers happened to be sitting on the porch when the Judge rode homeward on his sore-footed purchase. They noted how tenderly the Barred Twin Diamond sorrel walked, and promptly retired to the bar and made a fast friend of the bartender.
That afternoon the younger of the two hard-looking characters, the gray-eyed man, became exceedingly intoxicated and quarrelled with his swarthy friend who remained quite sober. The friend endeavoured to get him to bed—they had taken a room at the hotel—but the drunken one ran away. For a gentleman overcome by drink he ran remarkably well.
He was discovered an hour later in Mr. Archer's corral, making hysterical endeavours to climb the fence, and bawling that he was being detained against his will and would presently make a sieve of the individual who had hidden the gate. To which end he flourished a six-shooter.
Mr. Archer opened the gate and invited the tippler to come out. But this he refused to do, and offered to fight Mr. Archer rough-and-tumble or with knives on a blanket.
Mr. Archer, with an eye to future patronage, did not send for the marshal. He sent for the man's friend. When the swarthy one appeared, the other immediately sheathed his six-shooter, burst into maudlin tears, and fell on his neck. Weeping bitterly, he was led away to the hotel and to bed.
"I've seen drunks," observed a plump dance-hall girl, "but I never seen one as full as he is that could walk so good. His licker only seems to hit him from the belt up."
"Oh, there's drunks an' drunks," sagely replied Mr. Archer. "When yo're as old as I am, Clarice, yuh won't wonder at nothin' a drunk does."
When the two strangers were in their room with the door shut the younger one lay down on his cot and stuffed the end of a blanket into his mouth. His whole big frame shook with uproarious mirth. He kicked the cot with his boot-toes and bounced up and down. His friend laughed silently.
"Telescope," whispered the man on the bed, when he could open his mouth without yelling, "Telescope, I got it all. They's five hosses in that corral o' Archer's, all of 'em sore-footed an' all branded Barred Twin Diamond. It's done mighty slick, too. Yuh can't hardly tell it ain't the real thing. An' one of 'em, a black with two white stockings, I can swear to like I can to that sorrel the bartender said the Judge bought. I've rode 'em both."
"Sleeck work," breathed Laguerre. "I kin sw'ar to dat sorrel, too. I know heem, me. He ees six year old, un dat red one I see een de corral, I know heem. I bust heem a t'ree-year old. He ees five now. But de odders I not so shore."