They sauntered up the street and stopped opposite an "all-night" eating-house.
"We won't advertise the Concho, this trip," said Corliss, as they entered.
Shoop, with his legs curled around the counter stool, sipped his coffee and soliloquized. "Wise old head! Never was a hotel built that was too good for Jack when he's travelin'. And he don't do his thinkin' with his feet, either."
The waiter, who had retired to the semi-seclusion of the kitchen, dozed in a chair tilted back against the wall. He was awakened by a voice at the rear door. Shoop straightened up and grinned at Corliss. The waiter vocalized his attitude with the brief assertion that there was "nothin' doin'."
"It's him!" said Shoop.
"I got the price," came from the unseen.
"Then you beat it around to the front," suggested the waiter.
Shoop called for another cup of coffee. As the waiter brought it, Sundown, hatless, begrimed, and showing the effects of an unupholstered journey, appeared in the doorway. Shoop turned and stood up.
"Well, if it ain't me old pal Buddy!" exclaimed Sundown. "What you doin' in this here burg?"
"Why, hello, Hawkins! Where'd you fall from? How's things over to Homer?"