his way westward to New Mexico to study the effect of sunlight upon
the ancient walls of the Zuñis. Modern stones reflect light. Those
ancient building materials absorb it. The artist wanted this effect
in a picture he was painting, and was traveling two thousand miles
to get it.

Lonny sought this man out after dinner and told his story. The
artist was an unhealthy man, kept alive by genius and indifference
to life. He went with Lonny to the Capitol and stood there before
the picture. The artist pulled his beard and looked unhappy.

"Should like to have your sentiments," said Lonny, "just as they run
out of the pen."

"It's the way they'll come," said the painter man. "I took three
different kinds of medicine before dinner--by the tablespoonful. The
taste still lingers. I am primed for telling the truth. You want to
know if the picture is, or if it isn't?"

"Right," said Lonny. "Is it wool or cotton? Should I paint some more
or cut it out and ride herd a-plenty?"

"I heard a rumour during pie," said the artist, "that the state is
about to pay you two thousand dollars for this picture."

"It's passed the Senate," said Lonny, "and the House rounds it up
to-morrow."

"That's lucky," said the pale man. "Do you carry a rabbit's foot?"