"He's across the street there. Who are you, anyway?" "That's my business. He knows me." "This guy wants to talk to you," called the sentinel. Lorry stepped across the street. He stopped suddenly as he discovered the man to be Waco, the tramp. "Is it all right?" asked the sentinel, addressing Lorry. "I guess so. What do you want?" "It's about Jim Waring," said Waco. "I seen you when the sheriff rode up to our camp. I seen by the papers that Jim Waring was your father. I wanted to tell you that it was High-Chin Bob what killed Pat. I was in the buckboard with Pat when he done it. The horses went crazy at the shootin' and ditched me. When I come to I was in Grant." "Why didn't you stay and tell what you knew? Nobody would 'a' hurt you." "I was takin' no chance of the third, and twenty years." "What you doin' in this town?" "Cookin' for the camp. But I can't hold that job long. My whole left side is goin' flooey. The boss give me hallelujah to-day for bein' slow. I'm sick of the job." "Well, you ought to be. Suppose you come over to the sheriff and tell him what you know about the killin' of Pat." "Nope; I was scared you would say that. I'm tellin' _you_ because you done me a good turn onct. I guess that lets me out." "Not if I make you sit in." "You can make me sit in all right. But you can't make me talk. Show me a cop and I freeze. I ain't takin' no chances." "You're takin' bigger chances right now." "Bigger'n you know, kid. Listen! You and Jim Waring and Pat used me white. I'm sore at that I.W.W. bunch, but I dassent make a break. They'd get me. But listen! If the boys knowed I was tellin' you this they'd cut me in two. Two trucks just came into camp from up north. Them trucks was loaded to the guards. Every man in camp's got a automatic and fifty rounds. And they was settin' up a machine gun when I slipped through and beat it, lookin' for you. You better fan it out of this while you got the chanct." "Did they send you over to push that bluff--or are you talkin' straight?" "S' help me! It's the bleedin' truth!" "Well, I'm thankin' you. But get goin' afore I change my mind." "Would you shake with a bum?" queried Waco. "Why--all right. You're tryin' to play square, I reckon. Wait a minute! Are you willin' to put in writin' that you seen High-Chin Bob kill Pat? I got a pencil and a envelope on me. Will you put it down right here, and me to call my friend and witness your name?" "You tryin' to pinch me?" "That ain't my style." "All right. I'll put it down." And in the flickering rays of the arc light Waco scribbled on the back of the envelope and signed his name. Lorry's companion read the scrawl and handed it back to Lorry. Waco humped his shoulders and shuffled away. "Why didn't you nail him?" queried the other. "I don't know. Mebby because he was trustin' me."