Jim and Artie stood at attention, although Richmond wasn't really sure if it was out of respect or some kind of stance intended to silently mock him. It mattered not. These two had ignored orders, run off to Arizona, got themselves into trouble, and had basically made his life a living hell for the past three and a half months. His eyes narrowed as they often did when he wanted to appear angry. He stood an inch from Gordon's nose.

You, Mr. Gordon, took a leave of absence without filing so much as a postcard, nevermind the appropriate paperwork. And then, you led your partner on some kind of wild goose chase through the Arizona desert, which culminated in said partner's near fatal demise, and eventual long recovery period. Not to mention the fact that you're at least twenty pounds underweight and would be completely useless in hand-to-hand combat right now. My grandmother could take you on.

Your grandmother, sir? That explains a lot....

Richmond roared, What did you say?

Nothing sir. Nothing.

Richmond turned to West. And you, Agent West, followed your half-baked ham of a partner into the desert and almost got yourself killed. Do either one of you realize the position you've put me in?

The agents knew it was a rhetorical question and remained silent. Richmond paced right in front of them, doing his best to maintain his air of anger. Truth be told, he was relieved to have the two of them back; although he had to admit, the President had been right when he said a strong wind looked like it could knock Gordon over. He had even caught Jim taking sidelong glances at his partner, making sure he was still standing. Finally, the colonel came to a stop right between them.

Well, what have the two of you to say for yourselves?

Artie and Jim glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, neither completely able to hide the mischief and amusement they felt. But it was Artie who finally answered.

Well Colonel, I only came back because Jim promised me a hot dog. Which by the way, is a promise he is yet to make good on....

As Gordon prattled on, Richmond could only roll his eyes. He should have known better than to make any attempt at disciplining either one of them. They were far too incorrigible and knew they were not only his favorite agents, but also the President's. After a few moments, Richmond just raised his hands in the air in defeat.

All right, all right...I give up. The two of you win. We're glad you're back, fellas. But Artemus, I'm not kidding about the weight. I want to see ten pounds on you within two weeks, or I'll pull you from active duty. You get me?

Yes, sir.

Fine then.

Jim piped up, It won't take but a few hot dogs, Colonel. He loves them so much, once he starts he can't stop....right Artie?

Gordon sneered at his partner, and Richmond smiled.

Well that's just fine, because you see, I'm going to have twenty-five pounds of them loaded onto this train this afternoon. And you, Gordon, you're going to eat each and every last one of them by the time you boys hit San Francisco.

Richmond stalked off the train, and Artie glared at his partner.

Twenty-five pounds of frankfurters? I'm turning green just thinking about them....

Jim patted his partner's back, Cheer-up, Artie, at least now you can really say you've gone to the dogs!

Artie glared at his partner. Jim walked toward the stable car, and Gordon could hear his laughter permeate the train. An impish grin turned up the corners of Artie's mouth. They would just see who would be more smug after a few days of rotting frankfurters hidden throughout Jim's cabin.

The train chugged along the track, a storm brewing several miles away. The smoke from the engine puffed into the air, mixing with the gray of the clouds overhead. The clap of thunder rolled through the cars, followed by a bolt of lightening, which illuminated the train's interior. A moment later, it started to rain.

The End