o long. The fellows shortened it to 'Bridge'
and it stuck. It has always stuck, and now I haven't any other. I even
think of myself, now, as Bridge. Funny, ain't it?"

"Yes," agreed Billy, and that was the end of it. He never thought
of asking his companion's true name, any more than Bridge would have
questioned him as to his, or of his past. The ethics of the roadside
fire and the empty tomato tin do not countenance such impertinences.

For several days the two continued their leisurely way toward Kansas
City. Once they rode a few miles on a freight train, but for the most
part they were content to plod joyously along the dusty highways. Billy
continued to "rustle grub," while Bridge relieved the monotony by an
occasional burst of poetry.

"You know so much of that stuff," said Billy as they were smoking by
their camp fire one evening, "that I'd think you'd be able to make some
up yourself."

"I've tried," admitted Bridge; "but there always seems to be something
lacking in my stuff--it don't get under your belt--the divine afflatus
is not there. I may start out all right, but I always end up where I
didn't expect to go, and where nobody wants to be."

"'Member any of it?" asked Billy.

"There was one I wrote about a lake where I camped once," said Bridge,
reminiscently; "but I can only recall one stanza."

"Let's have it," urged Billy. "I bet it has Knibbs hangin' to the
ropes."

Bridge cleared his throat, and recited:

Silver are the ripples,
Solemn are the dunes,
Happy are the fishes,
For they are full of prunes.

He looked up at Billy, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"How's that?" he asked.

Billy scratched his head.

"It's all right but the last line," said Billy, candidly. "There is
something wrong with that last line."

"Yes," agreed Bridge, "there is."

"I guess Knibbs is safe for another round at least," said Billy.

Bridge was eying his companion, noting the broad shoulders, the deep
chest, the mighty forearm and biceps which the other's light cotton
shirt could not conceal.

"It is none of my business," he said presently; "but from your general
appearance, from bits of idiom you occasionally drop, and from the way
you handled those two boes the night we met I should rather surmise that
at some time or other you had been less than a thousand miles from the
w.k. roped arena."

"I seen a prize fight once," admitted Billy.

It was the day before they were due t