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 got up, leaned with hand on the arm of the young man's seat and peered out through his window, that being on the station side.

"Lost one of my men," Sid explained.

"Unfortunate," said the young man.

"Unfortunate for him, the derned fool! And here I've got a goin'-home pass callin' for five men and only four to ride on it."

Sid spoke resentfully, as if he faced the liability, through the defalcation of Waco Johnson, of being called to answer for some grave dereliction.

"At least you're one better off than I am," the young man remarked, very quietly, not greatly interested, it appeared.

"How do you mean better off? For men, do you mean?"

Sid straightened from peering out of the window to throw a glance around at his three cow-valets among their prod-poles, bundles and paper bags, as if to make sure he had no more.

"For tickets," the solemn young man replied. "You have one too many; I have none at all."

"You ort 'a' got you one," Sid told him, interested but unmoved. "They sock you for excess fare if you don't buy a ticket."

"It would be very-very difficult to collect," said the solemn young man.

"Broke, and travellin' on your nerve, heh?"

"Broke, and starting out to travel on my nerve. I don't know how far along I'll get with it."

The young man looked up at the tall cowman, his face