“Hey, Win, wake up,” he whispered as the man regarded him through a pair of sleepy eyes.  “Come on with me.  I got somethin’ to show you.”  Tex led the way to the war-bag.  “Them clothes of yourn is plum despisable to look at,” he imparted, “so I borrowed an outfit offen a friend of mine that’s about your size.  Just crawl into ’em an’ see how they fit.”

Five minutes later the cowboy viewed with approval the figure that stood before him, booted and spurred, with his mud-caked garments replaced by corduroy trousers and a shirt of blue flannel against which the red silk muffler made a splotch of vivid colouring.

“You look like a sure enough top hand, now,” grinned the Texan.  “We’ll just take a drink on that.”  He drew the cork from the bottle and tendered it to Endicott, who shook his head.

“No, thanks.  I never use it.”

The Texan stared at him in surprise.  “Do you mean you’ve got the regular habit of not drinkin’, or is it only a temporary lapse of duty?”

Endicott laughed:  “Regular habit,” he answered.

The other drank deeply of the liquor and returned the cork.  “You ought to break yourself of that habit, Win, there’s no tellin’ where it’ll lead to.  A fellow insulted me once when I was sober an’ I never noticed it.  But laying aside your moral defects, them whiskers of yourn is sure onornamental to a scandalous degree.  Wait, I’ll fetch my razor, an’ you can mow ’em.”  He disappeared, to return a few moments later with a razor, a cake of hand-soap, and a shaving brush.

“I never have shaved my self,” admitted Endicott, eyeing the articles dubiously.

“Who have you shaved?”

“I mean, I have always been shaved by a barber.”

“Oh!” The cowboy took another long pull at the bottle.  “Well, Win, the fact is them whiskers looks like hell an’ has got to come off.”  He rolled up his sleeves.  “I ain’t no barber, an’ never shaved a man in my life, except myself, but I’m willin’ to take a chance.  After what you’ve done for me I’d be a damn coward not to risk it.  Wait now ’til I get another drink an’ I’ll tackle the job an’ get it over with.  A man can’t never tell what he can do ’til he tries.”

Endicott viewed the cowboy’s enthusiasm with alarm.  “That’s just what I was thinking, Tex,” he hastened to say, as the other drew the cork from the bottle.  “And it is high time I learned to shave myself, anyway.  I have never been where it was necessary before.  If you will just sit there and tell me how, I will begin right now.”

“Alright, Win, you can’t never learn any younger.  First off, you wet your face in the creek an’ then soap it good.  That soap ain’t regular shavin’ soap, but it’ll do.  Then you take the brush an’ work it into a lather, an’ then you shave.”

“But,” inquired the man dubiously, “don’t you have towels soaked in hot water, and——­”

“Towels an’ hot water, hell!  This ain’t no barber shop, an’ there ain’t no gin, or whatever they rub on your face after you get through, either.  You just shave an’ knock the soap off your ears an’ that’s all there is to it.”