“‘Well,’ says Bill Bassett, when we had exchanged memories of our dead lives, ’I could eat.  This town don’t look like it was kept under a Yale lock.  Suppose we commit some mild atrocity that will bring in temporary expense money.  I don’t suppose you’ve brought along any hair tonic or rolled gold watch-chains, or similar law-defying swindles that you could sell on the plaza to the pikers of the paretic populace, have you?’

“‘No,’ says I, ’I left an elegant line of Patagonian diamond earrings and rainy-day sunbursts in my valise at Peavine.  But they’re to stay there until some of those black-gum trees begin to glut the market with yellow clings and Japanese plums.  I reckon we can’t count on them unless we take Luther Burbank in for a partner.’

“‘Very well,’ says Bassett, ’we’ll do the best we can.  Maybe after dark I’ll borrow a hairpin from some lady, and open the Farmers and Drovers Marine Bank with it.’

“While we were talking, up pulls a passenger train to the depot near by.  A person in a high hat gets off on the wrong side of the train and comes tripping down the track towards us.  He was a little, fat man with a big nose and rat’s eyes, but dressed expensive, and carrying a hand-satchel careful, as if it had eggs or railroads bonds in it.  He passes by us and keeps on down the track, not appearing to notice the town.

“‘Come on,’ says Bill Bassett to me, starting after him.

“‘Where?’ I asks.

“‘Lordy!’ says Bill, ’had you forgot you was in the desert?  Didn’t you see Colonel Manna drop down right before your eyes?  Don’t you hear the rustling of General Raven’s wings?  I’m surprised at you, Elijah.’

“We overtook the stranger in the edge of some woods, and, as it was after sun-down and in a quiet place, nobody saw us stop him.  Bill takes the silk hat off the man’s head and brushes it with his sleeve and puts it back.

“‘What does this mean, sir?’ says the man.

“‘When I wore one of these,’ says Bill, ’and felt embarrassed, I always done that.  Not having one now I had to use yours.  I hardly know how to begin, sir, in explaining our business with you, but I guess we’ll try your pockets first.’

“Bill Bassett felt in all of them, and looked disgusted.

“‘Not even a watch,’ he says.  ’Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, you whited sculpture?  Going about dressed like a head-waiter, and financed like a Count!  You haven’t even got carfare.  What did you do with your transfer?’

“The man speaks up and says he has no assets or valuables of any sort.  But Bassett takes his hand-satchel and opens it.  Out comes some collars and socks and a half a page of a newspaper clipped out.  Bill reads the clipping careful, and holds out his hand to the held-up party.