adjoining "hun'erd an' sixty," it would go
hard with him. For they did not deal in
justice very much -- the three Johns. They
considered it effete. It belonged in the
East along with other outgrown supersti-
tions. And they had given it out widely
that it would be healthier for land applicants
to give them elbow-room. It took a good
many miles of sunburnt prairie to afford
elbow-room for the three Johns.

They met by accident in Hamilton at the
land-office. John Henderson, fresh from
Cincinnati, manifestly unused to the ways
of the country, looked at John Gillispie with
a lurking smile. Gillispie wore a sombrero,
fresh, white, and expansive. His boots had
high heels, and were of elegant leather and
finely arched at the instep. His corduroys
disappeared in them half-way up the thigh.
About his waist a sash of blue held a laced
shirt of the same color in place. Hender-
son puffed at his cigarette, and continued
to look a trifle quizzical.

Suddenly Gillispie walked up to him and
said, in a voice of complete suavity, "Damn
yeh, smoke a pipe!"

"Eh?" said Henderson, stupidly.