"Say, Dan, who's the English swells in the private?" he asked, as he looked back at the luxuriously fitted car.
"The Earl of Kerhill," Dan answered, as they veered towards the bar. "Been out to the Yellowstone. The old man lets 'em have his private car. Must be the real thing, eh?"
McSorley grunted his approval of the noble freight that he was carrying. "Let's have a drink. What's yours, Dan?"
They reached the solicitous Nick.
"What 'll you have, gents?"
"A bottle of beer for me, Mac," Dan answered his companion's question. Then, with English tips still a pleasant memory, he added, "But this is on me."
Nick began opening a bottle of beer, and its foaming contents were soon filling the glasses. As he served he inquired: "What's up gents? 'Tain't often the Overland Limited honors Maverick with a call!"
"Washout down the road," was McSorley's laconic reply, as the cool liquid slid down his parched throat.
"Staying long?" Nick again asked, with visions of many strangers visiting his bar.
Dan was surveying the place with an unsympathetic eye.