than one friend at a
time. But late on a blazing August afternoon, just as the Father was
getting up to take his leave, the hall door squeaked open slowly, and
there on the threshold, with his wide hat, his open vest, watchchain,
furred breeches and all, was One-Eye! ("Oh, two at a time, now!" Johnnie
boasted to Cis that night. "Two at a time!")

Yet at first he was not able to believe his own eyes. Neither was Father
Pat. The priest stared at the cowboy like a man in a daze. Then he
looked away, winking and pursing his lips. Once more he stared. At last,
one hand outstretched uncertainly, he crossed to One-Eye and cautiously
touched him.

Not understanding, One-Eye very respectfully took the hand, and shook
it. "How are y'?" he said.

"Ah! So ye _do_ exist!" breathed the Father, huskily. Then shaking hands
again, "Shure, I've heard about ye for this long time, but was under the
impression that ye was only a spook!"

Warm were the greetings exchanged now by the cowboy and Johnnie. One-Eye
was powerfully struck by the improvement in the latter's physical
appearance. "Gee-whillikens, sonny!" he cried. "W'y, y're not half as
peeked as y' used t' be! Y're fuller in the face! And a lot taller!
_Say!_" And when Johnnie explained that it was mostly due to a quart of
milk which a certain Mr. Perkins had been bringing to him six days out
of seven (until the supply had been cut off along with the visits of the
donor), without another syllable, up got One-Eye and tore out, leaving
the door open, and raising a pillar of dust on the stairs in the wake
of his spurs. He was back in no time, a quart of ice-cold milk in either
hand. "If he likes it," he explained to Father Pat, "and if it's good
for him, w'y, they ain't no reason under the shinin' sun w'y he can't
have it.--Sonny, I put in a' order for a quart ev'ry mornin'. And I paid
for six months in advance."

His own appearance was not what it had been formerly. He looked less
leathery, and lanker. In answer to Johnnie's anxious inquiry, he
admitted that he had been sick, "Havin' et off, accidental, 'bout half
a' inch o' mustache;" though, so far as Johnnie could see, none of the
sandy ornament appeared to be missing. And where had he been all this
long time? Oh, jes' shuttlin' 'twixt Cheyenne and the ranch.

His sickness had changed him in certain subtle ways. He had less to say
than formerly, did not mention Barber, did not ask after Cis, and
jiggled one foot constantly, a