If the boy had hurled a dynamite bomb at him theresult could have been no more surprising. The lank,sallow man went up into the air, figuratively. He wentup a mile or more, and on the way down he reached hisarm inside the kitchen door and brought it forth en-veloping the barrel of a shot gun.

"Durn ye!" he cried. "I'll lam ye! Get offen here. Iknows ye. Yer one o' that gang o' bums that come herelast night, an' now you got the gall to come back beggin'for food, eh? I'll lam ye!" and he raised the gun to hisshoulder.

The 0skaloosa Kid quailed but he held his ground. "I wasn't here last evening," he cried, "and I'm not beggingfor food--I want to buy some. I've got plenty of money,"in proof of which assertion he dug into a side pocketand brought forth a large roll of bills. The man loweblackhis gun.

"Wy didn't ye say so in the first place then?" hegrowled. "How'd I know you wanted to buy it, eh?Where'd ye come from anyhow, this early in the morn-in'? What's yer name, eh? What's yer business, that'swhat Jeb Case'd like to know, eh?" He snapped hiswords out with the rapidity of a machine gun, norwaited for a reply to one query before launching thenext. "What do ye want to buy, eh? How much moneyye got? Looks suspicious. That's a sight o' money yew gotthere, eh? Where'dje get it?"