The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1910-04-17

crash and stamped to the three-legged table
at dusk and surlily demanded shelter for the
night.
Gimme bed an somethin' to eat" he
demanded, cycling the three men seated with
their chairs tilted against the wall "Do I
get it?" he demanded, impatiently.
"You do" replied one-eyed man, lazily
arising and approaching him. Gone dollar,
now"
can take tn rocks outen that bed
want to sleep"
"a dollar per for every one you find"
grinned Stevenson, pleasantly.
Some folks likes to be rocked to Sleep"
facetiously remarked one of the pair by the
wall, laughing contentedly at his own pun.
"Yo're droll teller, Charley" chuckled
"Old" John Ferris, rubbing his ear. "Thats
good one"
Zone drink, now" growled Hopalong,
mimicking the proprietor and glazing at the
"droll Teller" and his companion. can mind
it's good one,' he admonished the host.
ats better" smiled Stevenson, whereat
"Old" John crossed his legs and chuckled
again. "Ridin' long?" he asked.
"Since | started"
"Goin' fur?"
"Till l stop"
"He, he, he," chortled "Old" John, rub
bling his ear again and nudging Charley.
"He amt no fool, eh?"
Hopalong took the liquor and tossed it off
and, considering mopent, showed the glass
back: cit is good-fll her again" The
third was even better and by the time the
fourth and fifth joined their predecessors he
began to feel little more cheerful. But even
the liquor and an exceptionally well-cooked
supper could not separate him from his per-
sistent and set crouch. And of liquor he had
already had more than his limit. He had
always boosted, with truth, that he had never
been drunk-and that was one doubtful
luxury he could not afford for the reason that
more than one man would like to see him for
five seconds when liquor had dulled his brain
and slowed his speed of hand.
He dropped into a chair by card table
and, battling all attempts to engage him in
conversation, reviewed his troubles in a
munbled soliloquy, the liquor gradually
making him careless, but of all the jumbled
sounds his companions heard they recognized
and retained only the term Winchester"
"Better go to bed, stranger" the proprie,
tor was saying. "We're tn last up. It's
after twelve an you look sleepy an tired
"Said his wife was sick-oh, what you
sayin'2"
you'll find bed better'n this table,
stranger-it's after twelve, an want to close
up an get some sleep. I'm tired myself"
ooh, that's all? Shore I'll go to bed-just
like to see anybody stop me! Amt no rocks
in it, hey?"
mary rock" laughed the host, picking
up Hopalong's saddle and leading the way to
a room off the "ofice," his guest stumbling
after him and growing about the rocks that
lived in Winchester. When Stevenson had
dropped the saddle by the window and de-
parted, Hopalong sat on the edge of the bed to
close his eyes for just moment before tack
ling the labor of removing his clothes. A
crash and jar awakened him to find himself
on the floor with his back to the bed He
was hot and his head ached little-and how
close and hot and choking the room had be-
come! He thought he had blown out the
lamp, but it still burned and three-quarters of
the chimney was black with SCOT. 1t was I'M
bearable, and after three attempts he blew out
the light, stumbled against his saddle and
leaned out of the window to breathe. As his
lungs took in the fresh air he chuckled wisely
and, picking up the saddle, managed to get it
and himself through the window and on the
ground without mishap. He would ride for
an hour and come back all right, and give the
room time to freshen. Not star could be
seen as he CROPPED his way unsteadily towards
the rear of the building where he vaguely re-
membered having seen the corral.
"Huh Said he lived in Winchester ans
name was Ben Ferris" he muttered, STUN
bling toward noise he knew was caused by
a horse rubbing against the corral fence.
Lord, it's darker'n cats in-ooE" he
grunted, recoiling from forcible contact with
the fence he sought. Growing words unholy
he felt his way along it and finally his arm
slipped through an opening and he bumped
his head solidly on the top bar of the gate.
As he righted himself his hand struck the nose
of horse and closed mechanically over it.
Cowponies look alike in the dark and he
grinned as he complimented himself upon
finding his so unerringly.
Cant fool me, OF Cavuse," he beamed,
fumbling at the bars with his free hand and
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