om stretched under a tree, with
his sombrero covering his face, would not have associated him with
reckless speed. He ate his supper slowly, thanking Heaven for the
invention of the thermos bottle, and then started for the long pull.

It was cool and delightful now and he felt refreshed and invigorated. His
bundle was light and he swung along at a good clip. In and out of arroyos,
over little bridges, under fragrant branches of pine--the walk was
pleasant and the engineer reflected that one sees a good deal from one's
feet that one misses from the cab of an engine. Prairie dogs scuttled into
their holes as he approached and chipmunks sat on branches and swore at
him in sharp little voices. Now and then a far-away but penetrating odor
reminded him of another night animal on the prowl.

His wisdom in following the railroad track instead of the road was
evident. It was longer but it led through the mountains at the lowest
places. Midnight found him nearly out of the mountains, standing, tired
but not exhausted, on the edge of a decline, looking over miles of the
semi-flat country to a dark spot where one or two lights twinkled faintly
and which he knew was Conejo.

"Old Swartz is still on the job," he reflected, as he rolled himself in
his blanket and settled down for a nap. He had built a small fire and lay
with his feet almost in it. He stared ahead of him over the road which he
must travel before he could reach his destination and though his trip was
only half made he felt as though he were already there, so encouraging was
the sight of Swartz' night light.

"It's a great country for them that can stand the pace," he murmured,
sleepily. "I've a notion sometimes to go back to Omaha and get me a wife
and settle down out here. Picking a woman these days is a risk, though.
Get a young one, so's you can educate her, and ten to one you get an
ambitious young brat that wants to spend all your money seein' life. Pick
a settled one, a widow woman, say, and you get one that knows more'n you
do and that don't make for happiness in married life. Mrs. Van Zandt's a
likely woman but she's had one gold brick--'tain't likely she'd want to
fall for another. Besides, I can enjoy her cooking and her company without
bein' married to her, and there's times I like right well to get clear of
her gab," and so he drifted into sleep, snoring comfortably before his
fire went out.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Johnson, tall, gaunt a