Corliss laughed. "You're a railroad man, I take it. Belong in this
country?"

Sundown rose from his knees and backed away from the stove. "Nope.
Don't belong anywhere, I guess. My address when I'm to home is Sundown
Slim, Outdoors, Anywhere, speakin' general."

"Come in afoot?"

"Uhuh. Kind o' thought I'd get a job. Fellas at Antelope told me they
wanted a cook at this hotel. I reckon they do--and some boarders and
somethin' to cook."

"That's one of their jokes. Pretty stiff joke, sending you in here
afoot."

"Oh, I ain't sore, mister. They stole me nanny, all right, but I feel
jest as good here as anywhere."

Corliss led Chinook to the water-hole. Sundown followed.

"Ever think how many kinds of water they was?" queried Sundown. "Some
is jest water; then they's some got a taste; then some's jest wet, but
this here is fine! Felt like jumpin' in and drinkin' from the bottom
up when I lit here. Where do you live?"

"On the Concho, thirty miles south."

"Any towns in between?"

Corliss smiled. "No, there isn't a fence or a house from here to the
ranch."

"Gee Gosh! Any cows in this country?"

"Yes. The Concho runs ten thousand head on the range."

"Had your supper?"

"No. I was late getting away from the ranch. Expected to make
Antelope, but I guess I'll bush here to-night."

"Well, seein' you're the first boarder at me hotel, I'll pass the
hash." And Sundown stepped into the house and returned with the half
rabbit. "I got some coffee, too. I can cook to beat the band when I
got somethin' to cook. Help yourself, pardner. What's mine is
anybody's that's hungry. I et the other half."

"Don't mind if I do. Thanks. Say, you can cook?"

"Next to writin' po'try it's me long suit."

"Well, I'm no judge of poetry," said Corliss. "This rabbit tastes
pretty good."

"You ain't a cop, be you?" queried Sundown.

"No. Why?"

"Nothin'. I was jest wonderin'."

"You have traveled some, I take it."

"Me? Say! I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet. Been round the
world and back again on them same feet, and some freights. Had a pal
onct. He was a college guy. Run on to him on a cattle-boat. He writ
po'try that was the real thing! It's ketchin' and I guess I caught it
from him. He was a good little pal."

"What became of him?"

"I dunno, pardner. They was a wreck--but guess I'll get that coffee."

"How did you cross the Beaver Dam?" inquired Corliss as Sundown
r