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Baldy Woods reached for the bottle, and got it. Whenever Baldy went for anything he usually--butthis is not Baldy's story. He poured out a third drink that was larger by a finger than the first andsecond. Baldy was in consultation; and the consultee is worthy of his hire."I'd be king if I was you," said Baldy, so positively that his holster creaked and his spurs rattled.Webb Yeager pushed back his flat-brimmed Stetson, and made further disorder in his strawcoloured hair. The tonsorial recourse being without avail, he followed the liquid example of themore resourceful Baldy."If a man marries a queen, it oughtn't to make him a two-spot," declared Webb, epitomising hisgrievances."Sure not," said Baldy, sympathetic, still thirsty, and genuinely solicitous concerning the relativevalue of the cards. "By rights you're a king. If I was you, I'd call for a new deal. The cards have beenstacked on you--I'll tell you what you are, Webb Yeager.""What?" asked Webb, with a hopeful look in his pale-blue eyes."You're a prince-consort.""Go easy," said Webb. "I never blackguarded you none.""It's a title," explained Baldy, "up among the picture-cards; but it don't take no tricks. I'll tell you, Webb. It's a brand they're got for certain animals in Europe. Say that you or me or one of themDutch dukes marries in a royal family. Well, by and by our wife gets to be queen. Are we king? Notin a million years. At the coronation ceremonies we march between little casino and the NinthGrand Custodian of the Royal Hall Bedchamber. The only use we are is to appear in photographs, and accept the responsibility for the heir- apparent. That ain't any square deal. Yes, sir, Webb, you'rea prince- consort; and if I was you, I'd start a interregnum or a habeus corpus or somethin'; and I'dbe king if I had to turn from the bottom of the deck."Baldy emptied his glass to the ratification of his Warwick pose."Baldy," said Webb, solemnly, "me and you punched cows in the same outfit for years. We beenrunnin' on