"Hello, stranger! Now I didn't see you settin' there."

"Good-evening! But why 'stranger' when you say you can't see me?"

"Why? 'Cause everybody knows _me_, and you didn't whoop when I rode up.
Me, I'm Cheyenne, from no place, and likewise that's where I'm goin'.
This here town of Antelope got in the way--towns is 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."