. . Jim, you come with me."

"Hays, I'm in need of some things," said Wall.

Hays drew out a handful of bills and pressed them upon Wall without any interest in how much or little was there.

"Shore. Buy what outfit you need an' don't forget a lot of shells," replied Hays. "If I don't miss my guess, we'll have a smoky summer. Haw, Haw! . . . Here's the store. Run by Josh Sneed, friendly to Mormons. I've a sneakin' hunch he's one himself. Hasn't any use for us. But he'll take our money, you bet, an' skin the pants off us, if we let him."

The store proved to be similar to most Western stores dependent upon the stage line for their supplies. It consisted of the whole floor of a stone-walled building, and general merchandise littered it so that moving around was not easy.

A bright young fellow, who looked to be the son of the proprietor, took charge of Wall. A new saddle blanket was Wall's first choice, after which he bought horseshoes and nails, a hammer and file, articles he had long needed, and the lack of which had made Bay lame. After that he selected a complete new outfit of wearing apparel, a new tarpaulin, a blanket, rope, and wound up with a goodly supply of shells for his .45 Colt, bearing in mind the cardinal necessity of constant practice, a habit neglected of late, for the very good reason that he had no funds. Likewise he got some boxes of .44 Winchester shells for his rifle.

After this stocking-up he was surprised to find that he had considerable money left. Hays had been generous. Whereupon Wall went in for some luxuries, such as a silk scarf, razor and brushes and comb, towels and soap, and finally, amused at himself, some boxes of nuts and candy.

All these purchases he rolled in the tarpaulin, which he threw over his shoulder. Starting out, he passed Hays, who was buying food supplies.

"I'll need a pack-horse," said Wall.

"Ha! I should smile you will!" replied the other, with a grin.

"Take your pick. We got five or six extra hosses. . . . Did you buy saddle-bags an' a canvas water-bag?"

"No. I didn't think of them."

"Wal, I'll fetch them things round for you. Rustle Happy an' Brad over here, will you? An' throw the pack-saddles on. We want to be hittin' the trail."

Wall met the two men on the way to the store.

"Hays wants you to rustle," he said.

"We're mozeyin' along. You've a fust-rate pack-hoss, Wall," returned the genial Happy Jack.

Jim thought so himself by the time he had reached the corral. He was glad he no longer needed to make a pack-animal of Bay.