he would disembark and leave the car to those base uses for which
corporate greed, and a shipper of baled hay, intended it. He was
further annoyed to find that the door of the car had been locked since
he had taken possession. Hearing voices, he hammered on the door.
After an exchange of compliments with an unseen rescuer, the door was
pushed back and he leaped to the ground. He was a bit surprised to
find, not the usual bucolic agent of a water-plug station, but a belted
and booted rider of the mesas; a cowboy in all the glory of wide
Stetson, wing chaps, and Mexican spurs.

"Thought you was the agent. I couldn't see out," apologized the tramp.

The cowboy laughed. "He was scared to open her up, so I took a chanct,
seein' as I'm agent for the purvention of crulty to Hoboes."

"Well, you got a fine chance to make a record this evening" said
Sundown, estimating with experienced eye the possibilities of Antelope
and its environs. "I et at Albuquerque."

"Ain't a bad town to eat in," commented the puncher, gazing at the sky.

"I never seen one that was," the tramp offered, experimentally.

The cowboy grinned. "Well, take a look at this pueblo, then. You can
see her all from here. If the station door was open you could see
clean through to New Mexico. They got about as much use for a Bo in
these parts as they have for raisin' posies. And this ain't no garden."

"Well, I'm raised. I got me full growth," said Sundown, straightening
his elongated frame,--he stood six-feet-four in whatever he could get