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“Where’d you come from?” asked the other.

“Orleans, Nebraska. Ever been out there?”

“N-no. Nebraska’s quite a ways, ain’t it? Out—out near Illinois, ain’t it? Or Texas?”

“Out that way,” replied Rodney dryly. “Sort of between those places and Oregon. It’s the finest state in the Union.”

“That so?” The drug clerk grinned. “Guess you ain’t lived in the east much, have you?”

“No, not lived, but I’ve been in about every state except Maine and Vermont and West Virginia. And Nebraska’s got them all thrown and hog-tied.”

“You must have travelled some! Ever been in Utah?”

“Several times,” answered Rodney, scraping the last particle of ice cream from his glass with a sigh of regret.

“Is that so? I don’t suppose you ever ran across a fellow named Stenstream out there, did you?”

“I don’t think so. What town is he in?”

“Town? I don’t know. One of those Mormon towns, I think. He’s a sort of cousin of mine, Pringle is.”

“Did he come from here?” asked Rodney as he drained the last drop in his glass.

“Yes, he used to work for Huckins, down the street. Always was a sort of adventurous chap, though. Nobody wasn’t surprised much when he up and lit out for Utah.”