always gittin' in my
way--but nobody can help that. Is Wishful bedded down for the night or
is he over to the Blue Front shootin' craps?"

"I couldn't say. I seem to be the only one around here, just now."

"That sure excuses me and the hosses. Wishful is down to the Blue Front,
all right. It's the only exercise he gets, regular." Cheyenne pushed
back the brim of his faded black Stetson and sighed heavily. Bartley
caught a glimpse of a face as care-free as that of a happy child--the
twinkle of humorous eyes and a flash of white teeth as the other
grinned. "Reckon you never heard tell of me," said the rider, hooking
his leg over the horn.

I just arrived yesterday. I have not heard of you--but I heard you down
the road, singing. I like that song."

"One of my own. Yes, I come into town singin' and I go out singin'.
'Course, we eat, when it's handy. Singin' sure keeps a fellow's appetite
from goin' to sleep. Guess I'll turn the hosses into Wishful's corral
and go find him. Reckon you had your dinner."

"Several hours ago."

"Well, I had mine this mornin'. The dinner I had this mornin' was the
one I ought to had day before yesterday. But I aim to catch up--and
mebby get ahead a couple of eats, some day. But the hosses get theirs,
regular. Come on, Filaree, we'll go prospect the sleepin'-quarters."

Bartley sat back and smiled to himself as Cheyenne departed for the
corral. This wayfarer, breezing in from the spaces, suggested
possibilities as a character for a story No doubt the song was more or
less autobiographical. "A top-hand once, but the trail for mine," seemed
to explain the singer's somewhat erratic dinner schedule. Bartley
thought that he would like to see more of this strange itinerant, who
sang both coming into and going out of town.

Presently Cheyenne was back, singing something about a Joshua tree as he
came.

He stopped at the veranda rail. His smile was affable. "Guess I'll go
over and hunt up Wishful. I reckon you'll have to excuse me for not
refusin' to accompany you to the Blue Front to get a drink."

Bartley was puzzled. "Would you mind saying that again?"

"Sure I don't mind. I thought, mebby, you bein' a stranger, settin'
there alone and lookin' at the dark, that you was kind of lonesome. I
said I reckoned you'd have to excuse me for not refusin' to go over to
the Blue Front and take a drink."

"I think I get you. I'll buy. I'll try anything, once."

Cheyenne grinned. "I kind of hate t