"Sure!"

"One--or the whole frame?"

"The entire works, the nine windows, frame and all!"

"Oh well!--to you, Jim, that would be fifty bucks, less ten percent for cash," replied Mackenzie, going over to the cash register.

"Fifty dollars, less ten percent," repeated Jim; "that's forty-five dollars." His voice rose gaily. "There she goes, Charlie!"

He threw forty-five dollars from his roll over the counter.

"The window's mine! Good-bye, boys! My little lady is waiting for me."

He swung his mare round, set his heels into her sides and, before anyone could move, the horse and its rider sprang for the window, dashed clear through it on to the roadway and away at a gallop, without so much as a stop or a stumble; leaving a shower of broken gla.s.s and splintered wood in their train.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Coat of Many Colours

Before going to work next morning, Phil peeped into Jim's bedroom, and the sight proved pleasing to his eyes.

The place looked like a rocky beach after a storm and a shipwreck; boots, hat, spurs, leather straps, riding chaps, coat, pants, everything, lay in a muddle on the carpet, while Jim, the cause of all the rummage--innocent-looking as a newly born lamb, and smiling serenely in his evidently pleasant dreams--lay in bed, fast asleep.

At noon, after lunch, Phil looked in again, pushed the door wide and entered.

Jim was in his trousers and his undershirt, and was laboriously shaving himself before the mirror. He turned round and grinned. Phil grinned back at him and sat down on the edge of the bed.

There were no recriminations. What was past was dead and buried--at least as much of it as would submit to the treatment without protest.

"Jim!"

"Ugh-huh!"

"Had a good sleep?"

"Sure!"

"Just up?"

"Ay!"

"Feeling fit?"

"You bet!"

"Going to work?"

"Yep!--maybe."

"Did you hear what some tom-fool did to Percival DeRue Hannington's horse?"

Jim stopped his shaving and grimaced before the mirror, then swung slowly round on his heel.

"No!--although something inside of me seems to denote the feeling that I must have heard somebody talk about it. Give me the yarn."

Phil did so, as briefly as possible.

"And DeRue Hannington is as mad as a caged monkey. He has this white notice placarded on every telegraph pole in town."

Phil tossed over a hand-bill, which Jim perused slowly.

ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.

The above reward will be paid to anyone giving information that will lead to the conviction of the person, or persons, who maltreated my white mare by coating her with paint.

Percival DeRue Hannington.

Jim laughed and threw the paper back to Phil.

"Well!--I should worry about a little thing like that. Man,--I've troubles enough of my own to contend with."

"How's that?" asked Phil, looking up. "You haven't been doing anything likely to get you into hot water?"

"No--father confessor,--excepting maybe this:"

It was Jim's turn to throw over a piece of paper which he picked up from the bureau.

Phil looked it over.

It was an Agreement for Sale, between James Shallingford Dalton and James Langford, in which the former accepted from the latter nine horses--receipt of which was thereby acknowledged--as first payment of five hundred dollars on his Brantlock Ranch of sixty acres, with barns and shack, two dray-horses, one dray and one and a half tons of sacked potatoes; total purchase price thirty-five hundred dollars; second payment of two thousand dollars to be made within seven days, the balance in six months thereafter; prompt payment on due dates to be the essence of the agreement.

Phil glanced over at Jim, then turned up his nose in disgust.

"Gee!--and I thought you were a lawyer."

"So did I!" returned Jim ruefully.

"But what in the name of all that's lovely made you sign an agreement like that?"

"The Lord only knows!"

"Great snakes!--it would be all right if it weren't for that last clause. Didn't you read it? 'Prompt settlement on due dates to be the essence of the agreement.' Couldn't you see that the property reverts to Dalton immediately you fail to make any one payment on the dates agreed?"

Jim laughed in a woe-begone way.