"Pill? You mean Phil—Phil Sheridan. That's your horse's name."
"Mebby. I did try callin' him 'Phil.' It went all right when he was standin' quiet. But when he got to goin' I was lucky if I could holler just 'Whoa, Pill!' The 'h' got jarred loose every time. 'Course, bein' a puncher now,"—and Sundown threw out his chest,—"it's different. Anyhow, Pill is his name because there ain't anything a doc ever give a fella that can stir up your insides worse 'n he can when he takes a spell. Your head hurtin' much?"
"No. But it will be if you don't get out of here." And Corliss laughed and waved his hand toward the door.
CHAPTER XVII
THE STRANGER
Sundown, maintaining a mysterious and unusual silence, prepared to carry out his employer's plans. His preparations were not extensive. First, he polished his silver spurs. Then he borrowed a coat from one of the boys, brushed his Stetson, and with the business instinct of a Hebrew offered Hi Wingle nine dollars for a pair of Texas wing chaps. The cook, whose active riding-days were over, had no use for the chaps and would have gladly given them to Sundown. The latter's offer of nine dollars, however, interested Wingle. He decided to have a bit of fun with the tall one. He cared nothing for the money, but wondered why Sundown had offered nine dollars instead of ten.
"What you been eatin'?" he queried as Sundown made his bid. "Goin' courtin'?"
"Nope," replied the lean one. "Goin' east."
"Huh! Expect to ride all the way in them chaps?"