night. The moon was his lantern and the stars were his friends.
Circumstance and environment had wrought for him a coat of cheerful
effrontery which passed for hardihood; a coat patched with slang and
gaping with inconsistencies, which he put on or off at will. Out on
the starlit mesas he had metaphorically shed his coat. He was at home.
Here there were no men to joke about his awkwardness and his ungainly
height. A wanderer by nature, he looked upon space as his kingdom.
Great distances were but the highways of his heritage, each promising
new vistas, new adventuring. His wayside fires were his altars, their
smoke the incense to his gods. A true adventurer, albeit timid, he
journeyed not knowing why, but rather because he knew no reason for not
journeying. Wrapped in his vague imaginings he swung along, peering
ahead from time to time until at last he saw upon the far background of
the night a darker something shaped like a tiny mound. "That's her!"
he exclaimed, joyously, and quickened his pace. "But Gee Gosh! I
guess them fellas forgot I was afoot. That hill looks turruble far
off. Mebby because it's dark." The distant hill seemed to keep pace
ahead of him, sliding away into the southern night as he advanced.
Having that stubbornness so frequently associated with timidity, he
plodded on, determined to top the hill before morning. "Them fellas as
rides don't know how far things are," he commented. "But, anyhow, the
folks at that hotel will sure know I want the job, walkin' all night
for it."

Gradually the outline of the hill became bolder. Sundown estimated
that he had been traveling several hours, when the going stiffened to a
slow grade. Presently the grade became steep and rocky. Thus far the
road had led straight south. Now it swung to the west and skirted the
base of the hill in a gradual ascent. Then it swung back again
following a fairly easy slope to the top. His optimism waned as he saw