tures.

The brakeman's words, although mysterious in part, had concluded
reassuringly. My Lady, he said, would prove a valuable friend in Benton. A
friend at hand means a great deal to any young man, stranger in a strange
land.

The conductor came back--a new conductor; stooped familiarly over the
barricade and evidently exchanged pleasantries with her.

"Sidney! Sidney! Twenty minutes for breakfast!" the brakeman bawled, from
the door.

There was the general stir. My Lady shot a glance at me, with inviting
eyes, but arose in response to the proffered arm of the conductor, and I
was late. The aisle filled between us as he ushered her on and the train
slowed to grinding of brakes and the tremendous clanging of a gong.

Of Sidney there was little to see: merely a station-house and the small
Railroad Hotel, with a handful of other buildings forming a single
street--all squatting here near a rock quarry that broke the expanse of
uninhabited brown plains. The air, however, was wonderfully invigorating;
the meal excellent, as usual; and when I emerged from the dining-room,
following closely a black figure crowned with gold, I found her strolling
alone upon the platform.

Therefore I caught up with her. She faced me with ready smile.

"You are rather slow in action, sir," she lightly accused. "We might have
breakfasted together; but it was the conductor again, after all."

"I plead guilty, madam," I admitted. "The trainmen have an advantage over
me, in anticipating events. But the next meal shall be my privilege. We
stop again before reaching Benton?"

"For dinner, yes; at Cheyenne."

"And after that you will be home."

"Home?" she queried, with a little pucker between her brows.

"Yes. At Benton."

"Of course." She laughed shortly. "Benton is now home. We have moved so
frequently that I have grown to call almost no place home."

"I judge then that you are connected, as may happen, with a flexible
business," I hazarded. "If you are in the army I can understand."

"No, I'm not an army woman; but there is money in following the railroad,
and that is our present life," she said frankly. "A town springs up, you
know, at each terminus, booms as long as the freight and passengers pile
up--and all of a sudden the go-ahead business and professional men pull
stakes for the next terminus as soon as located. That has been the custom,
all the way from North Platte to Benton."

"Which accounts for your acquaintance along