an old bird like The Sky Pilot--eh, boys?" and he turned to his
comrades for confirmation.

"He's The Oskaloosa Kid," exclaimed one of the company. "I'd know 'im
anywheres."

"Pull up and set down," invited another.

The boy stuffed his loot back into his pockets and came closer to the
fire. Its warmth felt most comfortable, for the Spring night was growing
chill. He looked about him at the motley company, some half-spruce in
clothing that suggested a Kuppenmarx label and a not too far association
with a tailor's goose, others in rags, all but one unshaven and all
more or less dirty--for the open road is close to Nature, which is
principally dirt.

"Shake hands with Dopey Charlie," said The Sky Pilot, whose age and
corpulency appeared to stamp him with the hall mark of authority. The
youth did as he was bid, smiling into the sullen, chalk-white face and
taking the clammy hand extended toward him. Was it a shudder that
passed through the lithe, young figure or was it merely a subconscious
recognition of the final passing of the bodily cold before the glowing
warmth of the blaze? "And Soup Face," continued The Sky Pilot. A battered
wreck half rose and extended a pudgy hand. Red whiskers, matted in
little tangled wisps which suggested the dried ingredients of an
infinite procession of semi-liquid refreshments, rioted promiscuously
over a scarlet countenance.

"Pleased to meetcha," sprayed Soup Face. It was a strained smile
which twisted the rather too perfect mouth of The Oskaloosa Kid, an
appellation which we must, perforce, accept since the youth did not deny
it.

Columbus Blackie, The General, and Dirty Eddie were formally presented.
As Dirty Eddie was, physically, the cleanest member of the band the
youth wondered how he had come by his sobriquet--that is, he wondered
until he heard Dirty Eddie speak, after which he was no longer in doubt.
The Oskaloosa Kid, self-confessed 'tramp' and burglar, flushed at the
lurid obscenity of Dirty Eddie's remarks.

"Sit down, bo," invited Soup Face. "I guess you're a regular all right.
Here, have a snifter?" and he pulled a flask from his side pocket,
holding it toward The Oskaloosa Kid.

"Thank you, but;--er--I'm on the wagon, you know," declined the youth.

"Have a smoke?" suggested Columbus Blackie. "Here's the makin's."

The change in the attitude of the men toward him pleased The Oskaloosa
Kid immensely. They were treating him as one of them, and after the
lonely w