Jack Bates colored and got belligerently to his feet.  That hit him in an exceedingly tender place.

“Happy, look here,” Chip cut in authoritatively.  “What’s wrong with Weary?  If he took a shot at you, it’s a cinch he had some reason for it.”

Weary was even dearer to the heart of Chip than to Pink.

“Ah—­he never!  He’s takin’ shots permisc’us, lemme tell yuh.  And he ain’t troublin’ about no reason fer what he’s doin’.  He’s plumb oary-eyed—­that’s what.  He’s on a limb that beats any I ever seen.  He’s drunk—­drunk as a boiled owl, and he don’t give a damn.  He’s lost his hat, and he’s swapped cayuses with somebody—­a measly old bench—­and he’s shootin’ up the town t’ beat hell!”

The Happy Family looked at one another dazedly.  Weary drunk? Weary?  It was unbelieveable.  Such a thing had never been heard of before in the history of the Happy Family.  Even Chip, who had known Weary before either had known the Flying U, could not remember anything of the sort.  The Happy Family were often hilarious; they had even, on certain occasions, shot up the town; but they had done it as a family and they had done it sober.  It was an unwritten law among the Flying U boys, that all riotous conduct should occur when they were together and when the Family could, as a unit, assume the consequences—­if consequences there were to be.

“I guess Happy must a rode the whole blame saddle-bunch home, this time,” Cal remarked, with stinging sarcasm.

“Ah, yuh can go and see fer yourselves; yuh don’t need t’ take my word fer nothing” cried Happy Jack, much grieved that they should doubt him.  “I hain’t had but one drink t’day—­and that wasn’t nothin’ but beer.  It’s straight goods:  Weary’s as full as he can git and top a horse.  He’s sure enjoyin’ himself, too.  Dry Lake is all hisn—­and the way he’s misusin’ the rights uh ownership is plumb scand’l’us.  He makes me think of a cow on the fight in a forty-foot corral; nobody dast show their noses outside; Dry Lake’s holed up in their sullers, till he quits camp.

“I seen him cut down on the hotel China-cook jest for tryin’ t’ make a sneak out t’ the ice-house after some meat fer dinner.  He like t’ got him, too.  Chink dodged behind the board-pile in the back yard, an’ laid down.  He was still there when I left town, and the chances is somebody else ‘ll have t’ cook dinner t’day.  Weary was so busy close-herdin’ the Chinaman that I got a chanst t’ sneak out the back door uh Rusty’s place, climb on m’ horse and take a shoot up around by the stockyards and pull fer camp.  I couldn’t git t’ the store, so I didn’t bring out no mail.”

The Happy Family drew a long breath.  This was getting beyond a joke.

“Looks t ’me like you fellows ’d come alive and do something about it,” hinted Happy, with his mouth full.  “Weary’ll shoot somebody, er git shot, if he ain’t took care of mighty quick.”