"Well, I had mine this mornin'. The dinner I had this mornin' was the
one I ought to had day before yesterday. But I aim to catch up--and
mebby get ahead a couple of eats, some day. But the hosses get theirs,
regular. Come on, Filaree, we'll go prospect the sleepin'-quarters."

Bartley sat back and smiled to himself as Cheyenne departed for the
corral. This wayfarer, breezing in from the spaces, suggested
possibilities as a character for a story No doubt the song was more or
less autobiographical. "A top-hand once, but the trail for mine," seemed
to explain the singer's somewhat erratic dinner schedule. Bartley
thought that he would like to see more of this strange itinerant, who
sang both coming into and going out of town.

Presently Cheyenne was back, singing something about a Joshua tree as he
came.

He stopped at the veranda rail. His smile was affable. "Guess I'll go
over and hunt up Wishful. I reckon you'll have to excuse me for not
refusin' to accompany you to the Blue Front to get a drink."

Bartley was puzzled. "Would you mind saying that again?"

"Sure I don't mind. I thought, mebby, you bein' a stranger, settin'
there alone and lookin' at the dark, that you was kind of lonesome. I
said I reckoned you'd have to excuse me for not refusin' to go over to
the Blue Front and take a drink."

"I think I get you. I'll buy. I'll try anything, once."