"Nope. 'Nough's 'nough. 'S time f'r dinner."
"Nearly. Well, if you flatly refuse to drink my health, I'll have to drink it alone, and that's rather egotistical, isn't it?"
"Never. B' Gosh! You're sport. Funny li'l' ole ten'erfoot—perf'ly harmless. Sure, I'll drink all th' health you got, 'n then go home—dinner."
"One will be sufficient, I think," said Winthrop.
"Sufficen' wha'?" And the constable leered cunningly.
"To drown all pangs. Well, here's pleasant dreams."
Far down the line came the faint thrill of wheels and the distant, clear-cut blast of a locomotive. The local freight from Los Angeles was whistling for the "block."
Winthrop glanced at his watch, then at the constable. "What train is that?" asked the Easterner.
The constable's eyelids drooped, then opened languidly. "Railro' train, 'f course." And he slid forward to his elbow and thence to the bench. Presently he snored.
Winthrop strolled toward the approaching train. "Pretty stiff session," he commented. "Now if happy chance should bring Overland Red on this freight, with his burro and outfit; I'll have one reason to offer for wanting to go with him. I've probably saved him some annoyance, indirectly, but rather effectively, I think."