"No. Why?"
"Nothin'. I was jest wonderin'."
"You have traveled some, I take it."
"Me? Say! I'm the ramblin' son with the nervous feet. Been round the world and back again on them same feet, and some freights. Had a pal onct. He was a college guy. Run on to him on a cattle-boat. He writ po'try that was the real thing! It's ketchin' and I guess I caught it from him. He was a good little pal."
"What became of him?"
"I dunno, pardner. They was a wreck—but guess I'll get that coffee."
"How did you cross the Beaver Dam?" inquired Corliss as Sundown reappeared with his can of coffee.
"So that's what you call that creek back there? Well, it don't need no Beaver hitched on to it to say what I'd call it. I come through last night, but I'm dry now."
The cattle-man proffered Sundown tobacco and papers. They smoked and gazed at the stars. "Said your friend was a college man. What was his name?" queried Corliss, turning to glance at Sundown.
"Well, his real name was Billy Corliss, but I called him jest Bill."