"Sandy," some one across the aisle said to the man behind Ross, "wa’n’t you down t’ Oklahomy punchin’ two year ago?"
There was a perceptible pause. Then a note of irritation spoke through Sandy’s drawl as he answered briefly, "No, north Texas."
And, while the rest continued the discussion concerning old man Quinn, he leaned forward and devoted himself to Ross.
Presently they came to the hills whose barrenness and sombreness were relieved at intervals by the brilliant coloring of the rocks.
"Well," asked Sandy, "what do ye think of this? It ain’t every day East that ye can walk around the crater of an old volcano."
"Is this––" began Ross, his head out of the window.
"This is!" chuckled he of the sandy hair.
The train was crawling slowly around the edge of a wide, shallow well, on all sides of which the hills frowned darkly, stripped of every vestige of verdure.
"An extinct volcano!" ejaculated Ross.
"Yep,"–the other sagged forward until his laughing face was close to Ross’s,–"but just let me tell ye right here, young man, that volcanoes is the only thing in the West that’s extinct. Everything else is pretty lively."