“Bigamist?” repeated Lin, dazed at this charge.  “I ain’t,” he said to Ogden and me.  “I never did.  I’ve never married any of ’em before her.”

“Little good that’ll do yus, Lin McLean!  Me and him was man and wife before ever I come acrosst yus.”

“You and him?” murmured the puncher.

“Her and me,” whimpered Lusk.  “Sidney.”  He sat up with a limp, confiding stare at everybody.

“Sidney who?” said Lin.

“No, no,” corrected Lusk, crossly—­“Sidney, Nebraska.”

The stakes at this point fell from his pocket which he did not notice.  But the bride had them in safe-keeping at once.

“Who are yu’, anyway—­when yu’ ain’t drunk?” demanded Lin.

“He’s as good a man as you, and better,” snorted the guardian angel.  “Give him a pistol, and he’ll make you hard to find.”

“Well, you listen to me, Sidney Nebraska—­” Lin began.

“No, no,” corrected Lusk once more, as a distant whistle blew—­“Jim.”

“Good-bye, gentlemen,” said the rain-maker.  “That’s the west-bound.  I’m perfectly satisfied with my experiment here, and I’m off to repeat it at Salt Lake City.”

“You are?” shouted Lin McLean.  “Him and Jim’s going to work it again!  For goodness’ sake, somebody lend me twenty-five dollars!”

At this there was an instantaneous rush.  Ten minutes later, in front of the ticket-windows there was a line of citizens buying tickets for Salt Lake as if it had been Madame Bernhardt.  Some rock had been smitten, and ready money had flowed forth.  The Governor saw us off, sad that his duties should detain him.  But Jode went!

“Betting is the fool’s argument, gentlemen,” said he to Ogden, McLean, and me, “and it’s a weary time since I have had the pleasure.”

“Which way are yu’ bettin’?” Lin asked.

“With my principles, sir,” answered the little signal-service officer.

“I expect I ain’t got any,” said the puncher.  “It’s Jim I’m backin’ this time.”

“See here,” said I; “I want to talk to you.”  We went into another car, and I did.

“And so yu’ knowed about Lusk when we was on them board walks?” the puncher said.

“Do you mean I ought to have—­”

“Shucks! no.  Yu’ couldn’t.  Nobody couldn’t.  It’s a queer world, all the same.  Yu’ have good friends, and all that.”  He looked out of the window.”  Laramie already!” he commented, and got out and walked by himself on the platform until we had started again.  “Yu’ have good friends,” he pursued, settling himself so his long legs were stretched and comfortable, “and they tell yu’ things, and you tell them things.  And when it don’t make no particular matter one way or the other, yu’ give ’em your honest opinion and talk straight to ’em, and they’ll come to you the same way.  So that when yu’re ridin’ the range alone sometimes, and thinkin’ a lot o’ things over on top maybe of some dog-goned hill, you’ll say to yourself about some fellow