"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats 'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the other day. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd roll up and see Collie."
"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"
"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her that right after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' me off. She's some bronc' she is."
Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still, only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated his peculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. But there was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man, something that attracted despite his incongruities.
Anne Marshall was at once—as she told Louise later—"desperately interested." Dr. Marshall saw in Overland a new and exceedingly virile type. Even gentle Aunt Eleanor received the irrepressible with unmistakable welcome. She had heard much of his history from Collie. Overland was as irresistible as the morning sun. While endeavoring earnestly to "do the genteel," as he had assured Winthrop he would when he left him to make this visit, Overland had literally taken them by storm.
Young Dr. Marshall studied him, racking his memory for a name. Presently he turned to his wife. "What was Billy's partner's name—the miner? I've forgotten."
"A Mr. Summers, I believe. Yes, I'm sure. Jack Summers, Billy called him in his letters."
"Just a minute," said the doctor, turning to Overland, who sat, huge-limbed, smiling, red-visaged, happy. "Pardon me. You said Mr. Jack Summers, I believe? Do you happen to know a Mr. Winthrop, Billy Winthrop?"
"Me? What, Billy? Billy Winthrop? Say, is this me? I inhaled a whole lot of gasoline comin' up that grade, but I ain't feelin' dizzy. Billy Winthrop? Why—" And his exclamation subsided as he asked cautiously, "Did you know him?"
"I am his sister," said Anne Marshall.