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He was faintly roused by the church bells, and lay still, lingering with his sleep, his eyes closed, and his thoughts unshaped. As he became slowly aware of the morning, the ringing and the light reached him, and he waked wholly, and, still lying quiet, considered the strange room filled with the bells and the sun of the winter’s day. “Where have I struck now?” he inquired; and as last night returned abruptly upon his mind, he raised himself on his arm.

There sat Responsibility in a chair, washed clean and dressed, watching him.

“You’re awful late,” said Responsibility. “But I weren’t a-going without telling you good-bye.”

“Go?” exclaimed Lin. “Go where? Yu’ surely ain’t leavin’ me to eat breakfast alone?” The cow-puncher made his voice very plaintive. Set Responsibility free after all his trouble to catch him? This was more than he could do!

“I’ve got to go. If I’d thought you’d want for me to stay–why, you said you was a-going by the early train!”

“But the durned thing’s got away on me,” said Lin, smiling sweetly from the bed.

“If I hadn’t a-promised them–“

“Who?”

“Sidney Ellis and Pete Goode. Why, you know them; you grubbed with them.”

“Shucks!”

“We’re a-going to have fun to-day.”

“Oh!”

“For it’s Christmas, an’ we’ve bought some good cigars, an’ Pete says he’ll learn me sure. O’ course I’ve smoked some, you know. But I’d just as leaves stayed with you if I’d only knowed sooner. I wish you lived here. Did you smoke whole big cigars when you was beginning?”

“Do you like flapjacks and maple syrup?” inquired the artful McLean. “That’s what I’m figuring on inside twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes! If they’d wait–“

“See here, Bill. They’ve quit expecting yu’, don’t yu’ think? I’d ought to waked, yu’ see, but I slep’ and slep’, and kep’ yu’ from meetin’ your engagements, yu’ see–for you couldn’t go, of course. A man couldn’t treat a man that way now, could he?”

“Course he couldn’t,” said Billy, brightening.

“And they wouldn’t wait, yu’ see. They wouldn’t fool away Christmas, that only comes onced a year, kickin’ their heels and sayin’ ‘Where’s Billy?’ They’d say, ‘Bill has sure made other arrangements, which he’ll explain to us at his leesyure.’ And they’d skip with the cigars.”

The advocate paused, effectively, and from his bolster regarded Billy with a convincing eye.

“That’s so,” said Billy.

“And where would yu’ be then, Bill? In the street, out of friends, out of Christmas, and left both ways, no tobaccer and no flapjacks. Now, Bill, what do yu’ say to us putting up a Christmas deal together? Just you and me?”

“I’d like that,” said Billy. “Is it all day?”

“I was thinkin’ of all day,” said Lin. “I’ll not make yu’ do anything yu’d rather not.”

“Ah, they can smoke without me,” said Billy, with sudden acrimony. “I’ll see ’em to-morro’.”

“That’s you!” cried Mr. McLean. “Now, Bill, you hustle down and tell them to keep a table for us. I’ll get my clothes on and follow yu’.”

The boy went, and Mr. McLean procured hot water and dressed himself, tying his scarf with great care. “Wished I’d a clean shirt,” said he. “But I don’t look very bad. Shavin’ yesterday afternoon was a good move.” He picked up the arrow-head and the kinni-kinnic, and was particular to store them in his safest pocket. “I ain’t sure whether you’re crazy or not,” said he to the man in the looking-glass. “I ain’t never been sure.” And he slammed the door and went down-stairs.

He found young Bill on guard over a table for four, with all the chairs tilted against it as warning to strangers. No one sat at any other table or came into the room, for it was late, and the place quite emptied of breakfasters, and the several entertained waiters had gathered behind Billy’s important-looking back. Lin provided a thorough meal, and Billy pronounced the flannel cakes superior to flapjacks, which were not upon the bill of fare.

“I’d like to see you often,” said he. “I’ll come and see you if you don’t live too far.”