"Well, there 's another friend of yore business," laughed the bartender, leaning back to enjoy the other's discomfiture. "He don't like 'em, neither."
"He 's a fool of a mossback, so far behind th' times he don't know who 's President," retorted the other, still staring down the street.
"Well, he don't know that this has got to be a purty fair sheep town—that's shore."
"He 'll find out, if he makes many more talks like that—an' that ain't no dream, neither!" snapped the sheepman. He wheeled, and frowned at the man behind the bar. "You see what he gets, if he opens his cow mouth in here tonight. Th' boys hate this kind real fervent; an' when they finds out that he 's a side pardner of that coyote Waffles, they won't need much excuse. You wait—that's all!"
"Oh, what's th' use of gettin' all riled up about it?" demanded the bartender easily. "He did n't know you was a sheepman, when he made his first break. An' lemme tell you somethin' you want to remember—them old-time cowmen
