Westy thanked him and the man walked on and disappeared in one of the picturesque adobes.
The young Señor Mitchell bid his companion adieu also and they went in opposite directions, so Westy hurried after him.
As he got near him he walked slow on purpose and passed in front of him leisurely. He could feel the close scrutiny that young Mitchell gave him as he passed.
“Hello, Scout!”
Westy turned and smiled.
“Hello!”
“Stranger?”
“Sure. Martin, Bridgeboro, N. J.”
“Go on! Mitchell—I go to Crestwood.”
“N. J.?”