Buffalo Roost. Frank H. Cheley
enough then to have educated him, and perhaps he's poor—poor like you and me, and can't go to school, while that rascal, Williams, rides around in an automobile. Some way, I feel like I'll find out, and then I'll—"
"Is that a fact! Well, that tarnal critter!" Ben puffed meditatively at his pipe and gazed into the fire.
"I have decided to go back, Ben, and work the other claim up in the gulch by Dad's. If I could get enough money ahead I'd get a detective and put him on the case. I'm kind of a father to that boy, Ben, wherever he is, and I ought to be finding him."
The meeting at the table was over, and the fellows crowded around the fire before starting home, and, perhaps, to hear one of Ben's stories of the early days. The stranger watched Willis closely for some minutes, then he called to him.
"Lad, ain't you the boy that was in the wreck of the Rocky Mountain Limited, early in the spring? I've been watching you, and you sure remind me of him." Willis's face brightened. In a flash he recognized the fireman. He advanced with extended hand.
"Why, yes, sir, I am the boy, and you are the fireman. I have been looking at you all evening and wondering where I had ever seen you before. It's the whiskers that threw me off. How is the broken leg?"
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