ooked up at the indistinct black
object on the bench, then back wistfully at the red and violet lights of
the drug store. He had an intense desire to be near some one--some one
who was going carelessly about his usual occupation.

He crossed over and went into the little apothecary. The clerk was
sitting on the back of his neck with his feet to a counter listening to
the phonograph. "Has anybody here seen Kelly?" the machine screeched as
the stranger entered. The clerk got up and went to the tobacco counter.

"Hell of a night," he observed, languidly.

"Some chilly," replied the stranger, indicating the brand he wanted.

"It'll be close to forty below before morning," passing out the tobacco.

"Everybody's gone to the show but me," plaintively.

"A drug clerk might as well be a dog chained up in a kennel." He stopped
the phonograph and changed the needle.

The stranger sat down beside the stove and placed his feet on the nickel
railing. He left the collar of his mackinaw turned up, but untied his
ear-laps. They looked rather foolish, dangling. His eyes were shadowed
by the visor of his cap, so that really only his nose and cheek bones
were visible. He glanced at the big clock on the wall frequently, and at
intervals wiped the palms of his hands on the knees of his corduroy
trousers as though to remove the moisture.

The clerk was putting on "When the Springtime Comes, Gentle Annie" when
the opening door let in a breath from the Arctic and a tall person
wearing new overalls, a coat of fleece-lined canvas and a peak-crowned
Stetson. He had a scarf wound about his neck after the fashion of
sheepherders.

"Hello, Bowers! Sober?" inquired the clerk, casually.

"Kinda. What you playin'?"

The clerk told him.

"Got a piece called 'The Yella Rose o' Texas Beats the Belles o'
Tennessee'?"

"Never heard of it."

"Got--'Whur the Silver Colorady Wends its Way'?"

The clerk replied in the negative.

"Why don't you git some good music?"

"Why aren't you at the show?"

"Too contrary, I reckon. When I'm out in the hills I'm a hankerin' to
see somebody. When I git in town I want to git away from everybody. I'm
goin' out to-morrow."

"Where you going?"

"Hired out to Mormon Joe this evenin'."

The stranger stirred slightly.

"I'll look around a little--I don't want nothin'," said Bowers.

"Help yourself," replied the clerk, amiably, so the sheepherder stared
at the baubles of cut glass on the shelf with a pl