"That's right, leaving--I'll be departing from my right mind," Augustus told him. Then he hurried across the street and strode into the saloon so fast that he almost knocked over a customer who stood a little too close to the swinging door.

"Why, hello, Captain," Long Bill said, when Gus burst in and strode to the bar. Without a ^w to anyone, including the bartender, Augustus reached for a full bottle of whiskey and immediately yanked out the cork. Then he threw his hat at the hat rack, but missed. His hat landed behind the bar.

"Don't call me "Captainea"' I'm plain Gus McCrae," he said. He raised the whiskey bottle to his mouth and--ffthe astonishment of the patrons--drank nearly a third of it straight off.

Long Bill, perceiving that his old compa@nero, now his captain, was a little disturbed, said nothing. In times of disturbance, silence seemed to him the best policy. The other rangers began to file into the saloon just then, all of them eager to wet their whistles.

"You better grab your liquor if you want any, boys," Long Bill said. "Gus means to drink the place dry and he's off to a fine start." Augustus ignored the tedious palaver that ensued. All he could think about was Clara--he had by then convinced himself that she had unquestionably been holding hands with dull Bob. Instead of getting the homecoming kiss he had yearned for for several days, what did he see but the love of his life holding hands with another man! No disappointment had ever been as keen. It was worse than disappointment, it was agony, and all he could do was dull it a little with the whiskey. He took another long draw, scarcely feeling the fire of the liquor in his belly.

Quietly the rangers took their seats; quietly they ordered their own drinks.

"Gus, why did you get on your horse backward?" Neely Dickens asked. "Did you just happen to put your off foot in the stirrup, or what?" Augustus ignored the question. He decided to refuse all discussion, of the horse incident or anything. The boys, Neely especially, would have to make of it what they could.

"It's bad table manners to drink out of the bottle," Neely observed. "The polite thing is to drink out of a glass." Long Bill could scarcely believe his ears.

Why would Neely Dickens care what Gus drank out of, and, even if he did care, why bring it up when Gus was clearly more than drunk?

"Now, Neely, I've seen men drink liquor out of saucers--there ain't just one right way," he said, nervous about what Augustus might do.

"I would not be caught dead drinking no whiskey out of a saucer," Neely said firmly. "Coffee I might drink out of a saucer, if it was too hot to sip from a cup." Augustus got up, went behind the bar, took the largest glass he could find back to his table, filled the glass, and drank it.

"Does that suit you?" he asked, looking at Neely.

"Yes, but you never told me why you got on your horse backward," Neely said. "I don't sleep good when people won't answer my questions." Just then Call stepped into the saloon. He saw that the whiskey bottle in front of him was half empty.

"Let's go before you get any drunker," he said. "The Governor sent his buggy for us." "I see," Augustus said. "Did the buggy just come by itself, or is somebody driving it?" "His man Bingham is driving it," Call said. "Bingham always drives it. Hurry up." "I wish you'd just let me be, Woodrow," Augustus said. "I ain't in the mood for a governor today, even if he did send Bingham to fetch us." Bingham was a very large black man who rarely spoke--he saw to it that the Governor came to no bodily harm.

"Your mood don't matter," Call said.

"We're captains now, and we're due at the Governor's." "Captaining's the wrong business for me, I expect," Augustus said. "I think I'll resign right now." "What?" Call said. "You've been talking about being a captain for years. Why would you resign now?" Without a ^w Augustus corked the whiskey bottle, retrieved his hat, and went outside.

"I may resign and I may not," he said.

The buggy he had seen Clara riding in was parked by the Forsythe store, with no one in it, and the Governor's buggy, with Bingham in it, stood beside it.

"Dern, Bingham, you're nearly as wide as this buggy," Augustus observed. "The man who rides behind you won't have much of a view." "No sir," Bingham said. "Mostly get a view of me." "I'm surprised you'd drink like that before you say hello to Clara," Call said.

"Why would I say hello to her?" Gus asked. "I saw her taking a buggy ride with that dumb horse trader." "No she wasn't, that was her uncle," Call told him. "Her ma's poorly and he's come for a visit." Augustus, who had just climbed in the buggy, was so startled he nearly fell out. It had not occurred to him that Clara could be with a relative, when he saw her come down the hill.

"Oh Lord--y mean she's in the store?" he asked.

"Why, yes, I suppose so," Call said.

"Were you so drunk you got on your horse backward? That's what the boys are saying." Augustus ignored the inquiry.

"Hold this buggy, Binghamffwas he demanded.

"I've got to pay a short visit--then I'll report to the Governor until he's sick of listening." "But the Governor's waiting," Call protested.

"It don't take long to kiss a girl," Gus said, jumping out of the buggy and running into the store.

Clara had her back to him when he rushed in-- he had her in his arms before she even got a good look at him. But the color came up in her cheeks and the happy light into her eyes.

"Why, it's my ranger," she said, and gave him the kiss he had been yearning for.

"Yep, I'm a captain now, Clara-- Woodrow's one too. We're off to see the Governor on urgent business." "The Governor? My goodness," Clara said.

"Yes, and I'll have to hurry or Bingham might lose his job," Gus said. "The Governor expects us to report." Clara didn't try to stop him but she followed him out the door and watched him as he vaulted into the Governor's buggy and straightened his hat.

Clara felt an old confusion, the feelings that had so often filled her when Gus came: relief that he was safe, excitement when he kissed her, joy that he still rushed in to see her first, disappointment that he left before she could even take a good look at him.

Just a kiss and then he's gone--t's my ranger, she thought. Just a kiss and then he's gone.