as foreman of Kitchen's barn, was responsible--Kate stood, listener and
onlooker. Everything was new and interesting. Four horses champed
impatiently under the arc-light swinging in the street, and looked
quite fit. But the stage itself was a shock to her idea of a Western
stage. Instead of the old-fashioned swinging coach body, such as she
had wondered at in circus spectacles, she saw a very substantial,
shabby-looking democrat wagon with a top, and with side curtains. The
curtains were rolled up. But the oddest thing to Kate was that
wherever a particle could lodge, the whole stage was covered with a
ghostly, grayish-white dust. While the loading went on, Sawdy arrived
with the second passenger, Belle Shockley. She had, fortunately for
Kate's apprehensions, _not_ changed her mind.

Belle herself was something of an added shock. She wore a long rubber
coat, in which the rubber was not in the least disguised. Her hair was
frizzed about her face, and a small, brimless hat perched high, almost
startled, on her head. She was tall and angular, her features were
large and her eyes questioning. Had she had Bradley's beard, she would
have passed with Kate for the stage driver. She was formidable, but
yet a woman; and she scrutinized the slender whip of a girl before her
with feminine suspicion. Nor did she give Kate a chance to break the
ice of acquaintance before starting.

Under Lefever's chaperonage and with his gallant help, Kate took her
seat where directed, just behind the driver, and her new companion
presently got up beside her.

The mail bags disposed of, Bradley climbed into place, gathered his
lines, the hostler let go the leads and the stage was off. The horses,
restive after their long wait, dashed down the main street of the town,
whirling Kate, all eyes and ears, past the glaring saloons and darkened
stores to the extreme west end of Sleepy Cat. There, striking
northward, the stage headed smartly for the divide.

The night was clear, with the stars burning in the sky. From the rigid
silence of the driver and his two passengers, it might have been
thought that no one of them ever spoke. To Kate, who as an Eastern
girl had never, it might be said, breathed pure air, the clear, high
atmosphere of the mountain night was like sparkling wine. Her senses
tingled with the strange stimulant.

To Belle, there was no novelty in any of this, and the strain of
silence was correspondingly greater. I