where he hoped to spend but one night. The little SV group cantered over the thin trail in the wake of their bobbing chuck wagon, several miles ahead of them, and reached the town well ahead of it, much to the cook's vexation. As they neared Quayle's hotel Johnny pulled up.
"This is our stable," he said. "Go easy, boys. We leave at daylight. See you at supper."
They answered him laughingly and swept on to Kane's place, which they seemed to sense, each for his favorite, drink and game.
The afternoon shadows were long when Ridley, just from the bank, left his rangy bay in front of the hotel and entered the office, nodding to several men he knew. He went on through and stopped at the bar.
"Howd'y, Ed," he grunted. "That SV foreman around? Nelson's his name."
Ed Doane mopped up the bar mechanically and bobbed his head toward the door. "Here he comes now. Make a deal?"
Ridley nodded as he turned. "Hello, Nelson! Read this over. If it's all right, sign it, an' we'll let Ed disfigure it as a witness. I allus like a witness."
Johnny signed it with the pen the bartender provided and then the bartender labored with it and blew on it to dry the ink.
"Disfigure it, hey?" chuckled Ed, pointing to his signature, which was beautifully written but very much overdone. "That bill of sale's worth somethin' now."
Johnny admired it frankly and openly. "I allus did like shadin', an' them flourishes are plumb fetchin'. Me, now; I write like a cow."
