"Only by marriage," declared Cis. She was certain of that.
"But why'd he bother takin' a kid that is no relation?" persisted the Westerner.
Cis smiled wisely. "Work," she answered laconically.
One-Eye understood. "And who was the rich gent?" he asked.
Johnnie could not remember the name. "But once," he told proudly, "he left a' orange for me, and I used it like a ball till the skin busted."
"Y' know what street that was on, don't y'?" inquired the cowboy.
Yes, Johnnie knew that. The street was West Fifty-fifth.
"And what about your mother?" One-Eye wanted to know.
"Well, I had one—once," declared Johnnie. "I'm sure of that. And she's dead." Also at one time he had possessed a father, who was dead, too. "My father and my mother," he informed the cowboy, "died the same day."
That single eye opened wide at this news. "The same day?" One-Eye demanded.