"What became of him?"

"I dunno, pardner. They was a wreck--but guess I'll get that coffee."

"How did you cross the Beaver Dam?" inquired Corliss as Sundown
reappeared with his can of coffee.

"So that's what you call that creek back there? Well, it don't need no
Beaver hitched on to it to say what I'd call it. I come through last
night, but I'm dry now."

The cattle-man proffered Sundown tobacco and papers. They smoked and
gazed at the stars. "Said your friend was a college man. What was his
name?" queried Corliss, turning to glance at Sundown.

"Well, his real name was Billy Corliss, but I called him jest Bill."

"Corliss! When did you lose track of him?"

"In that wreck, 'bout a year ago. We was ridin' a fast freight goin'
west. He said he was goin' home, but he never said where it was. Hit
a open switch--so they said after--and when they pulled the stitches,
and took that plaster dingus off me leg, I starts out huntin' for
Billy. Nobody knowed anything about him. Wasn't no signs in the
wreck,--so they said. You see I was in that fadeaway joint six weeks."

"What did he look like?"

"Billy? More like a girl than a man. Slim-like, with blue eyes and