“West.”
“Uh-huh. I know that. What’re you ridin’ on?”
“I’m broke.”
“Yeah? You don’t look it. You look like a workin’man.”
“I am.”
“What d’ye follow?”
“Railroad-construction work.”
“Huh! A stiff, eh?”
“Yes—a stiff.”
The “shack” was silent a little. Then seeming to have decided the point under contemplation: