He turned from Weimer, and changed the subject in his queer, abrupt way.
"Pard’s sick–hurt. Guess he’ll pass up his checks afore long if he don’t git help."
He squinted through his goggles at Ross. "Over t’ Red Lodge they said you fixed up a feller down in Dry Creek good’s new. So I come after ye fer a couple of days."
Instantly Weimer became alarmed. "Ross, he can’t go und leave us, hein! When the sun pe shinin’, I can’t get ’round. Ross, he must pe here to work. He can’t go mit you."
Ross drew a long, perplexed breath, and said nothing. The stranger looked attentively at Weimer for the first time.
"Got a touch of the sun, too, have ye?" he asked.
Weimer removed his goggles, and pressed his hands over his eyes. "Yah, dot I has, a touch und more dan a touch. Ross here, he ain’t leavin’ us to go mit you."
Still Ross stood silent. The stranger made no response to Weimer’s protestations, but, bending forward, regarded him closely.
"What?" he burst out. "Are you Dutch Weimer?"
"Dot ist vat dey call me," assented Weimer, turning his bloodshot eyes on the stranger.