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"Have a ride?" the freighter invited, edging over on the backless spring seat as he spoke, making room. The bone-wagon driver was a hollow-framed man, who looked as if he had starved with the country but endured past all bounds of hardship and discouragement. He looked hungry hungry for food, hungry for change, hungry for the words of men.
He accepted the chair that Judge Thayer pushed toward him, nodding to the bone-wagon man who came sauntering past the door at that moment, the long lash of his bullhide whip trailing in the dust behind him. "You've come to settle with us, I hear?" said the judge. "I'm looking around with that thought, sir." "I don't know how you'll do at the start in the optical way, Mr.
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