In the dim light of the lantern vague outlines took shape.  He noticed that the small safe in the corner was open.  He became alarmed and again called.  He heard a slight movement behind him and turned to see the door close.  From behind stepped a figure, a slender figure that seemed unreal, yet familiar.  With a cry of surprise he jumped back and stood facing his old friend and companion of the road, Will Corliss.

“Billy!” he ejaculated, backing away and staring.

“Yes, it’s Billy.”  And Corliss extended his hand.

“But—­what, where—?” Sundown hesitated and glanced at the safe.  His eyes widened and he lowered the lantern.  “Billy!” he said, ignoring the other’s proffered hand, “what you doin’ here?”

Corliss assumed a nonchalant air.  “Shake, pal!  It’s a long time since we been in a wreck, eh?”

Sundown was silent, studying the other’s hardened features.  “Billy!” he reiterated, “what you doin’ here?”

Corliss laughed nervously.  “What are you doing here?” he retorted,—­“in the office of the Concho, at midnight?”

“I was comin’ to get flour and beans for the camp—­” he began.

Corliss interrupted him.  “Sounds good, that!  But they don’t keep the grub here.  Guess you made a mistake.”

Sundown’s face was expressionless.  “Guess you made the mistake, Billy.  I thought you was—­dead.”

“Not on your tin-type, Sun.”

“I never thought you was crooked, Billy.”

“Crooked!” flashed Corliss.  “Say, you—­you forget it.  I’m here to get what’s coming to me.  Jack turned me down, so I’m going to take what’s mine.”

“Mebby it’s yours, but you ain’t gettin’ it right,” said Sundown.  “I—­I—­never thought you was—­”

“Oh, cut that out!  You didn’t used to be so dam’ particular.”

“I never swiped a cent in me life, Billy.”

“Well, forget it.  I’m in a hurry.  You go ahead and get the chuck.  Here are the keys to the store-room—­and beat it.  Just forget that you saw me; that’s all.”

Sundown shook his head.  “I ain’t forgettin’ that easy, Billy.  ’Sides, I’m workin’ for the Concho, now.  They’re treatin’ me fine—­and I reckon I got to be square.”

“You mean you’re going to squeal—­going back on your old pal, eh?”

Sundown’s face expressed conflicting emotions.  He straightened his lean shoulders.  “I tell you, Billy; if you beat it now, they won’t be nothin’ to squeal about.”

“I’m going to.”  And Corliss stepped toward the safe.  “Just hold that light this way a minute.”

Sundown complied, and Corliss thought that the other had overcome his scruples.  Corliss hastily drew a small canvas sack from the safe and stuffed it into his pocket.  Sundown backed toward the door.

Corliss got to his feet.  “Well, so-long, Sun.  Guess I’ll light out.”

“Not with that,” said Sundown.  “I ain’t no preacher, but I ain’t goin’ to see you go straight to hell and me do nothin’.  Mebby some of that dough is yourn.  I dunno.  But somebody’s goin’ to get pinched for takin’ it.  Bein’ a Bo, it’ll be me.”