The laugh died out of McGlory's face, and a blank look took its place.
"Go on!" he scoffed, not a little startled.
"Two fellows couldn't have the same kind of a dream," persisted Matt, "and I went through identically the same things you did. That proves they were real! But—but," and Matt's voice wavered, "how did we get here?"
"There are the motor cycles we used when we buzzed out of Catskill Landing," and McGlory brightened as he pointed to the two wheels.
"I see," mused Matt, drumming his forehead with his knuckles. "Nobody seems to be paying much attention to us," he added, his eyes on the groups around the hotel porches.
"Not a terrible sight, and that's a fact," agreed McGlory. "But why should they, pard? They don't know us."
"Somebody must have brought us here and laid us in the hammocks. The last I remember we were down and out. Now, Joe, a move of that kind would naturally stir up a commotion."
"Well, yes," admitted the cowboy, going blank again, "Are you and I locoed, Matt, or what?"
"Come on and let's try and find out."