“Hold on a minute,” Skinny said to the Ramblin’ Kid, stopping in front of the Jew’s place of business, “I got an idea—­By golly,” he continued argumentatively and with apparent irrelevancy, in a loud voice, “I tell you I’m the lightest man on my feet in Texas!” and he winked knowingly at the Ramblin’ Kid.  “I can walk on eggs and never bu’st a one!  I’ve done it and”—­as Leon came to the door—­“I’ll bet four-bits I can jump in that box of eggs right there and never crack a shell!” The Ramblin’ Kid understood.

“Aw, you’re crazy,” he laughed.  “I don’t want to win your money!”

“What’s the matter?” Leon asked curiously, having heard only part of Skinny’s boast.

“This locoed darn’ fool thinks he can walk on them eggs an’ not mash ‘em!” the Ramblin’ Kid laughed again.  “He wants to bet me four-bits he can—­”

“Walk on them eggs and not preak them?” Leon exclaimed disdainfully.  “You ought to lock him up!  He iss crazy!”

“By gosh,” Skinny argued, “you don’t realize how light-footed I am—­I can jump on them, I tell you, and I got money to back it up!” And he pulled a half-dollar from his pocket.

“Put away your money, you blamed idiot—­” the Ramblin’ Kid began.

“I’ll bet him four-bits he can’t!” Leon cried, jerking a coin from his own pocket.

Skinny and Leon each handed the Ramblin’ Kid fifty cents.

“By thunder, I can,” Skinny said, pausing, “that is, I’m willing to bet my money on it—­”

“Vhy don’t you go ahead and do it, then?” Leon exclaimed.  “Vat you standing there for?  Vhy don’t you do it if you’re so light on your feet?”

“Well, I can!” Skinny argued, still hesitating.

“Den go ahead and chump—­chump I told you—­into the box!” Leon shouted excitedly.

Skinny jumped.  The eggs crushed under the heels of his riding boots.  In an instant the box was filled with a squashy mass of whites, yolks and broken shells.  Skinny pawed around until there wasn’t a whole egg left in the box.

At the first crunch Leon laughed hilariously.

“I knowed you’d lose!” he cackled.  “Giff me the money!”

“You win, Leon!” the Ramblin’ Kid laughed, handing over the wager.  “Skinny wasn’t as delicate on his feet as he thought he was!”

“Thunderation, that’s funny!” Skinny said soberly as he stepped out of the box; “it wouldn’t work that time!  Something must have slipped!”

With a grin he calmly unwrapped the one-time white shirt and with it began to wipe the slimy mess from his boots.

“The next time you won’t be so smart!” Leon cried, then paused in consternation, his eyes riveted on the scrambled mixture in the box.  “But mine eggs!” he exclaimed, suddenly suspicious.  “Who pays for the eggs?  There vas twelve dozen—­they are worth seventy cents a dozen—­that is more as eight dollars.  Pay me for the eggs!”

“Pay, hell!” Skinny said.  “I didn’t agree to furnish no eggs!  You won my fifty cents and th’ Ramblin’ Kid gave it to you—­”