s two hundred. No room for
doubt. But beyond that--" he shook his head. He could talk frankly to
the reporter, for he never talked for publication.

"He looked honest--but it was a bad hunch, I'm afraid. I'm not so
certain but what he would prove to be too honest, for any practical
purpose, if he ever did come through."

"You've seen the last of him," stated Fox-face omnisciently.

But they hadn't. Blue Jeans was invisible for a while, then he
reappeared, and the water from the tank overflow had done much for man
and beast. He looked almost neat, and very shining and clean. And the
huge man, the reporter observed, must have been mistaken about the
brothels. Blue Jeans was no prude--no sissy--but a man had to draw the
line somewhere. Wherefore his lips did not puff and sag, his eyeballs
were not mottled.

His neckerchief had been newly knotted, with a flourish; his
discouraged boots wiped free of dust. And the mare, Girl o' Mine, had
also found refreshment. She drooped no longer; she even arched her
neck and buck-jumped a little, when he put his weight in the stirrup.

"You, too," he chided her, though gravely, for he was not pleased, not
happy in the course to which he had committed himself. "You, too," he
chided. "Oh, you brazen huzzy! There's nothing like it--nothing in
all the world like ready cash to make a female frivolous!"

He turned her across the tracks.

"We'll not linger long in Reservoir," he spoke again aloud, and the
mare threw back one ear to listen. "Just long enough to eat and sleep,
and then we'll start overland to Estabrook. That's sensible! That's
better than squandering money on a railroad ticket."

Certainly the prospect to which he was bound irked his pride; hurt him
definitely in his self-respect. But with this frugal reflection his
spirits rose a little. He'd not have to be like them; he'd not mix
with that clique; he'd herd alone. And save his money! That was it.
There was the Dream again!

His spirits rose. With the whole train watching him he rode from sight
without even putting up a hand in farewell to those at the private car
windows. And at that, without realizing it, Fox-face--for that--began
hating him.

Once across the tracks Blue Jeans clicked to Girl o' Mine. She swung
to a canter.

"Trip along, honey," he bade her, his serenity almost restored. "Trip
along, and watch your step. Remember you're bearing a capitalist!"

CHAPTER III

LITTL