“Well, gentlemen, you look tired and thirsty.  This is considered good for all human ailments of whatsoever nature, degree, or wheresoever located, in part or entirety, ab initio,” Mr. Jones remarked, filling glasses.  There was no argument and when the glasses were empty, he continued:  “Now what can I do for you?  From the Bar-20?  Ah, yes; I was expecting you.  We’ll get right at it,” and they did.  Half an hour later they emerged on the street, free to take in the town, or to have the town take them in,—­which was usually the case.

“What was that he said for us to keep away from?” asked Johnny with keen interest.

“Sh!  Not so loud,” chuckled Hopalong, winking prodigiously.

Johnny pulled tentatively at his upper lip but before he could reply his companion had accosted a stranger.

“Friend, we’re pilgrims in a strange land, an’ we don’t know the trails.  Can you tell us where the docks are?”

“Certainly; glad to.  You’ll find them at the end of this street,” and he smilingly waved them towards the section of the town which Jeremiah T. Jones had specifically and earnestly warned them to avoid.

“Wonder if you’re as thirsty as me?” solicitously inquired Hopalong of his companion.

“I was just wondering the same,” replied Johnny.  “Say,” he confided in a lower voice, “blamed if I don’t feel sort of lost without that Colt.  Every time I lifts my right laig she goes too high—­don’t feel natural, nohow.”

“Same here; I’m allus feeling to see if I lost it,” Hopalong responded.  “There ain’t no rubbing, no weight, nor nothing.”

“Wish I had something to put in its place, blamed if I don’t.”

“Why, now yo’re talking—­mebby we can buy something,” grinned Hopalong, happily.  “Here’s a hardware store—­come on in.”

The clerk looked up and laid aside his novel.  “Good-morning, gentlemen; what can I do for you?  We’ve just got in some fine new rifles,” he suggested.

The customers exchanged looks and it was Hopalong who first found his voice.  “Nope, don’t want no rifles,” he replied, glancing around.  “To tell the truth, I don’t know just what we do want, but we want something, all right—­got to have it.  It’s a funny thing, come to think of it; I can’t never pass a hardware store without going in an’ buying something.  I’ve been told my father was the same way, so I must inherit it.  It’s the same with my pardner, here, only he gets his weakness from his whole family, and it’s different from mine.  He can’t pass a saloon without going in an’ buying something.”

“Yo’re a cheerful liar, an’ you know it,” retorted Johnny.  “You know the reason why I goes in saloons so much—­you’d never leave ’em if I didn’t drag you out.  He inherits that weakness from his grandfather, twice removed,” he confided to the astonished clerk, whose expression didn’t know what to express.