"Wait till morning," said Corliss. "I'll take the room next, here, and if you get to feeling bad, call me."
"All right, Jack. I'll cut it out. Maybe I will go back to the Concho; I don't know."
"Wish you would, Will. You'll get on your feet. There's plenty to do and we're short-handed. Think it over."
"Does—Nell—ever say anything?" queried the brother.
"She talks about you often. Yesterday we were talking about you. I told her what Sundown said about—"
"Sundown?"
"Forgot about him. He drifted in a few months ago. I met up with him at the water-hole ranch. He was broke and looking for work. Gave him a job cooking, and he made good. He told me that he used to have a pal named Will Corliss—"
"And Sundown's at the Concho! I never told him where I lived."
"He came into Antelope on a freight. Got side-tracked and had to stay. He didn't know this used to be your country till I told him."
"Well, that beats me, Jack! Say, Sun was just an uncle to me when we were on the road. We made it clear around, freights, cattle-boats, and afoot. I didn't hit the booze then. Funny thing: he used to hit it, and I kind of weaned him. Now it's me…"