time?"

Gully moved slightly. With the mannerism he affected, his left hand
dragging at his moustache and his right slid between the lapels of his
coat, he leaned forward and fixed his eyes full upon the hobo's battered
visage.

Meeting that strange, compelling gaze the latter: stared back at him, his
face an ugly, expressionless mask. He shuffled with his feet. "Why,
yes!" he said finally, "I did heer a bunch o' fellers come in. They was
a-talkin' all excited-like 'bout a fight, or sumphin'. They was
a-hollerin', 'Beat it, Larry! beat it!' t' somewun, an' I heered some
feller say: 'All right! give us my ---- saddle!' an' then it sounded like
as if a horse was bein' taken out. I didn't heer no more after
that--went t' sleep. I 'member comin' down 'bout th' middle o' th' night
t' git a drink at th' trough. This feller come in then,"--he indicated
Lee. "He hollered sumphin' an' started in t' chase me . . . so I beat it
up inta th' loft agin'." He shivered. "'T'was cold up ther--I well-nigh
froze," he whined.

The sergeant exhausted his no mean powers of exhortation. It was all in
vain. The hobo protested that he had neither seen nor heard anyone else
taking out, or bringing in, a horse during the night.

Slavin finally ceased his efforts and glowered at the man in silent
impotence. "How come yez tu get th' face av yez bashed up so?" he
demanded.

"Fell thru' one o' th' feed-holes up in th' loft," was the sulky response.

"Fwhat name du ye thravel undher?"

"Dick Drinkwater."

"Eh?" the sergeant glanced critically at the red, bulbous nose. "Fwhat's
in a name?" he murmured. "Eyah! fwhat's in a name?"

Glibly the tramp commenced an impassioned harangue, dwelling upon the
hardness of life in general, snuffling and whining after the manner of
his kind. How could a crippled-up man like him obtain work? He thrust
out a grimy right hand--minus two fingers. He had been a sawyer, he
averred.

Slavin sniffed suspiciously. "Ye shtink av whiskey, fella!" he said
sharply. "That nose, yeh name, an' a hard-luck spiel du not go well
together. Fwhere did yu' get yu're dhrink?"

The hobo was silent. "Come across," said Slavin sternly, "fwhere did ye
get ut?"

"I had a bottle with me when I come off th' train," said the other, "ther
was a drop left in an' I had it just now."

In the light of after events, well did Slavin and Yorke recall the
furtive appealing glance the hobo threw at Gully; well did t