ranger to city
methods and customs, Jack struggled with a long forgotten, dimly
familiar something about the man that recalled brain impressions, which
they say are never destroyed when once imprinted. He had been directed
to see Mr. Lillis at such a room, in such a building, but that name
carried no suggestion. It did not seem to fit the groping fancy of his
mind. Still the name seemed to associate itself with the party then
engaging the General Passenger Agent. As the stranger turned to go he
stopped in front of Jack, looked at him a moment, then put out his hand,
"Shake, old man; guess you don't re-cog-nize Cal Wagner in his store
clothes. I jess cum out to God's country once more afore I pass in my
chips to see how things look in civilization. How be ye?"

Of course Jack then remembered his quondam friend during the races on
the Ute reservation, and the name Lillis puzzled him more than ever. He
greeted Cal in a hearty manner, introducing Hazel.

"Wait a minute while I get my tickets fixed, then I'll have a chat with
you," said Jack.

As he presented his tickets, stating the object of his errand, he
noticed the official had a glass eye and scar near his ear. When the
tickets were returned a name written across them identified so
unmistakably a part of Jack's "vision" that he immediately recalled the
story which Cal Wagner told him years before of the first grave in
Silver Cliff. The name was "Bert Lillis." Allowing his curiosity to
prevail, he asked abruptly, "Mr. Lillis, were you ever in Silver Cliff?"

The official started, a shiver ran through his frame, the color left his
face until it was like a piece of Parian marble, while he replied just
audibly, helplessly, "Yes," adding quickly, "Come in, I guess you must
know. I--did you ever see me before?"

Jack shook his head, but turning to Cal said, "Cal, this is Bert Lillis,
formerly of Silver Cliff."

Cal looked from one to the other and replied, "Guess you are mistaken.
Lillis is dead many years."

"No, he is still alive," said the official. "Come in."

Upon being seated, no one seemed desirous of broaching the painful
subject uppermost in their minds, while Hazel was completely mystified
as to the conduct of the three men. Finally, with a great effort to
restrain his feelings, his head bowed upon his breast, the railroad man
said in broken sentences: "I--for fifteen years a blackened pall has
shadowed my path, a floating, abandoned derelict moored to my