"Blub--no I ain't--blub blub--but you will be--blub--if yu don't lemme alone," came from the pan. "Hand me that towel!" "Don't wallow in it, yu!" admonished Bud as he refilled the basin. "Leave some dry spots for me, this time." Jim carefully hung the towel on a peg in the wall of the house and then noticed the stranger, who was removing his saddle. "Howdy, stranger!" he said heartily. "Just in time to feed. Coax some of that water from Bud, but get holt of the towel first, for there won't be none left soon." The Orphan laughed and dusted his chaps. "Where'll I find Lee Lung?" he asked. "Blake wants him to rustle the grub lively." "He's in the cook shack behind the house a-doing it and trying to sing," replied Jim. "He's always trying to sing; it goes something like this: Hop-lee, low-hop yum-see," he hummed in a monotonous wail as he combed his hair before a broken bit of mirror stuck in a crack. "Hi-dee, hee-hee, chop-chop----" "Gimme that comb, yu heathen Chinee," cried Bud, "and don't make that noise." "Anything else yu wants?" asked Jim, deliberately putting the comb away in the box. "I want to be in Kansas City with a million dollars and a whopper of a thirst," replied Bud as he filled the basin for the stranger. "It's all yourn, stranger. Grub's waiting for yu inside when yore ready." "Do yu know who that feller is?" Bud asked in a whisper as they made their way to the table, from which came much laughter. "That's The Orphant," he added. "Th' h--l it is!" said Jim. "Him? Him Th' Orphant? Tell another! I'm more than six years old, even if yu ain't." "That's straight, fellers!" said Bud to the assembled outfit in a low voice. "I ain't kidding yu none, honest. I saw him up to Ace High last year. That's him, all right. Wait 'til he comes in and see!" "Well, I don't care if he's Jonah," responded Jim. "Only I reckons you're plumb loco, all the same. But I'm too hungry to care if Gabriel blows if I can fill up before these Oliver Twists eats it all up," he said, revealing his last reading matter. "He shore enough wears his gun plumb low--and the holster is tied to his chaps, too," muttered Jim as he seated himself at the table. "So would I, too, if I was him. Pass them murphys, Humble," he ordered. "You has got to bust that piebald pet what you've been keeping around the house to-morrow, Humble," exulted the man nearest to him. "And it'll shore be a circus watching you do it, too!" The blankets which divided the bunk house into two rooms were pushed aside and The Orphan entered, carrying his saddle and bridle, which he placed beside the others on the floor. Then he unbuckled his belts and hung them, Colts and all, over the pommel, which was etiquette and which gave assurance that the guest was not hunting anyone. Then he seated himself at the table in a chair which Humble pushed back for him. His entry in no degree caused a lull in the conversation.