"Yes, you will," Lippy said. He was depressed anyway, because of the piano situation. He loved music and had felt sure he would get to play a little, or at least listen to some, in Ogallala. Yet the best he had done so far was a bartender with a harmonica, and he couldn't play that very well. Now he had really messed up and told Gus's secret.

Then, in a flash of inspiration, it occurred to him that the best way out of that tight spot was to get the boys drunk. They were young and not used to drinking. Get them drunk enough and they might forget Ogallala entirely, or even Nebraska. They certainly would not be likely to remember his chance remark. He saw that the strongest thing they had treated themselves to so far was horehound candy.

"Of course you boys are way too sober to be visiting whores," he said. "You've got to beer up a little before you attempt the ladies."

"Why?" Newt asked. Though he knew whores were often to be found in saloons, he wasn't aware that being drunk was required of their customers.

"Oh, yeah, them girls is apt to be rank," Lippy assured them. "Hell, they wallow around with buffalo hunters and such like. You want to have plenty of alcohol in you before you slip up on one. Otherwise you'll start to take a leak some morning and your pecker will come right off in your hand."

That was startling information. The boys looked at one another.

"Mine better not," Pete Spettle said darkly. He was not enjoying himself in town so far, apart from the miracle of being handed ten dollars by Gus.

"Why, that's a leg pull," Jimmy Rainey said. "How could one come off?"

"Oh, well, if it don't come plumb off it'll drip worse than my stomach," Lippy said. "You boys oughtn't to doubt me. I was living with whores before any of you sprouted."

"How do we get the beer?" Newt asked. He was almost as intrigued by the thought of beer as by the thought of whores. He had never quite dared go in a saloon for fear the Captain would walk in and find him.

"Oh, I'll get you the beer," Lippy said. "Got any cash?"

The boys looked at one another, reluctant to reveal the extent of their riches lest Lippy try to exploit them in some way. Fortunately they had nearly three dollars over and above what Gus had given them.

They shook out the small change and handed it to Lippy. They knew that drinking was something required of all real cowboys, and they were hot to try it.

"Will this get much?" Newt asked.

"Hell, will a frog hop?" Lippy said. "I can get you plenty of beer and a bottle of whiskey to chase it."

Lippy was as good as his word. In ten minutes he was back with plenty of beer and a quart of whiskey. He had a twinkle in his eyes, but the boys were all so excited by the prospect of drinking that they didn't notice. Lippy gave them the liquor and immediately started up the street.

"Where you going?" Newt asked.

"The barber says there's a drummer with an accordion staying in the hotel," Lippy said. "If he ain't too attached to the accordion, I might buy it. We could make some fine music back at the wagon if we had an accordion to play."

"You oughta buy a new hat," Jimmy Rainey said boldly, for Lippy was still wearing the disgraceful bowler he had worn in Lonesome Dove.

"That hat looks like it was et by a heifer that had the green slobbers," Newt said, feeling proud of his wit. Lippy was out of hearing by then, so the wit was wasted.

The beer wasn't, however. Feeling that it was not appropriate to drink right out on the main street, the boys took ther liquor around to the back of the livery stable and fell to. At first they sipped cautiously, finding the beer rather bitter. But the more they drank, the less bothered they were by the bitter taste.

"Let's sample the whiskey," Ben Rainey suggested. The suggestion was immediately adopted. After the cool beer, the whiskey tasted like liquid fire, and its effects were just as immediate as fire. By the time he had three long swigs of the whiskey Newt felt that the world had suddenly changed. The sun had been sinking rapidly as they drank, but a few swallows of whiskey seemed to stop everything. They sat down with their backs against the wall of the livery stable and watched the sun hang there, red and beautiful, over the brown prairie. Newt felt it might be hours before it disappeared. He swigged a couple of bottles of beer and felt himself getting lighter. In fact, he felt so light he had to put his hands on the ground every once in a while-he felt like as if he might float away. He might float up to where the sun was hanging. It was amazing that a few swallows of liquid could produce such a sensation. It was silly, but after a while he felt like lying down and hugging his stomach and hugging the earth, to make sure he didn't float off.

Young Jimmy Rainey turned out to have no stomach for liquor at all. He started vomiting almost as soon as he started drinking. Pete Spettle drank freely, but only looked darker and more depressed, whereas Ben Rainey enjoyed the liquor hugely and guzzled considerably more than his share.

In no time, it seemed, they had finished off the beer. Somehow the sun had slipped on down while no one was looking, and the afterglow was dying. Stars were already out, and the four of them were just sitting behind a livery stable, drunk, and no closer to the whores than they had been when they first came to town.

Newt decided it wouldn't do. He stood up and found that he didn't float off-though when he tried to walk he found it no simple matter to put his feet down one after the other. It irritated him a bit, for he had never experienced any trouble in walking before and felt a resentment against his feet for behaving so peculiarly.

Still, he could make progress, in some fashion, and he started boldly for the back stairs of the saloon.

"I'm gonna meet one, at least," he said. He kept walking, fearing that if he stopped the whole project might slide to a halt. The others picked themselves up and began to follow, Ben Rainey bringing the whiskey bottle. This was unnecessary, because it was empty.

Newt made the stairs with no trouble and clomped right on up them. He had not really meant to seize the lead, and his heart was in his throat. He felt delicately balanced, as if his stomach might be in his throat too, if he didn't proceed carefully.

The stairs had seemed long and steep from the bottom, but in a second he found himself standing at the top. The door was slightly ajar and he saw that someone was there. All he could see was a large shape.

Then, before he could speak, he saw a woman with almost no clothes on come out of a room behind the shape. The woman's legs were naked, a sight so startling that Newt couldn't believe he was seeing it.

"Who is it, Buf?" the girl with the naked legs asked.

"I guess the cat's got his tongue," the shape said in a husky voice. "He ain't introduced himself."

"I'm Newt," he said, feeling uncertain suddenly about the whole enterprise.

The other boys were just making their way up the stairs.

The shape-it was a woman, too-stepped half out the door and surveyed the group on the stairs. She was a large woman and she smelled rather like Pea Eye had after he came out of the barbershop. Newt saw to his astonishment that her legs were naked too.

"It's a troop of little fellers," she said to her companion in the hall. "They must have just let out school."

"They better get on in here while we ain't busy, then," her friend said. "That is, if they can afford it."

"Oh, we got money," Newt volunteered. "We come up with a herd and we just got paid."

"I didn't know cowboys come this young," the big woman said. "Show me the money."

Newt pulled out his gold piece and the woman leaned in the hall to look at it under the light.

"I take it all back," she said to her friend. "It's a bunch of rich cattlemen."