l," said he.

The agent halted the truck, smiled in friendly fashion, swung around,
and presented his left ear cupped in his left hand. At the same time a
strange, pungent odour assailed Farwell's nostrils.

"What did yez say?" he asked. "Onforch'nately me right a-cowstick organ
is temp'rar'ly to the bad from shootin' a po-o-olecat. The gun busted
on me, and I massacreed the marauder wid an ax. Did iver ye disthroy a
skunk wid an ax? Then don't. Avoid mixin' it wid the od'riferous
animals. Faix, I've buried me clothes--it was a new nightshirt, a
flannel wan that I had on--and scrubbed meself wid kerosene and
whale-oil soap that I keep f'r the dog, and I'm no bed of vi'lets yet.
I can see ye wrinkle yer nose, and I don't blame yez. I'll move to the
down-wind side of yez. Ye see, it was like this: The t'ief iv the
wurruld was in me chicken house----"

"I said I was Farwell," that gentleman interrupted.

"Farrel, is ut?" said the station agent. "I knowed a Farrel thirty
years gone. W'u'd he be yer father, now? His people come from Munster,
if I mind right. Ye do not favour him, but maybe ye take after yer
mother. Still, I'm thinkin' ye can't be his son, on account of yer age;
though he turned Mormon, and I heerd----"

"I said Farwell, not Farrel," the engineer interpolated. "Richard K.
Farwell." He thought it all the introduction necessary.

The station agent extended a welcoming hand. "Me own name is C. P.
Quilty," said he, "the initials indicatin' Cornelius Patrick, and I'm
glad to know ye. There's mighty few drummers stops off here now, but
trade's bound to pick up, wid the land boom an' all." A sidelong glance
at the perfecto clenched between Farwell's teeth. "W'u'd seegyars be
yer line, now? I'm a judge of a seegyar meself, though the bum smokes
they do be makin' nowadays has dhruv me to the pipe. No offense to you,
Mr. Farrel, for no doubt ye carry a better line nor most. If ye like
I'll introduce ye to Bob Shiller, that keeps the hotel----"

"Look here," snapped Farwell, at the end of his patience, "I'm Farwell,
the engineer come down to take charge of this irrigation job. I want to
know if there are any telegrams for me, and where the devil the camp
is, and how I get to it. And that's about all I want to know, except
whether I can get a bath at this hotel of Shiller's."

And Cornelius Patrick Quilty shook hands with him again.

"To think iv me takin' ye fur a drummer, now!" he exclaimed in
self-reproach.