impudence
of this abandoned person in thus thrusting himself into a place
reserved, if not absolutely for aristocratic, certainly, at least, for
respectable society.

II.

The slight stir incident to the entrance of this offensive stranger
aroused Mr. Hutchinson Port from his agreeable slumber. He yawned
slightly, cast a disparaging glance upon the mountains, and then,
drawing an especially good cigar from his case, betook himself to the
smoking-room. Grace did not realize his intentions until they had become
accomplished deeds.

Mr. Hutchinson Port--although a member (on the retired list) of the
First City Troop, and therefore, presumably, inflamed with the martial
spirit characteristic of that ancient and honorable organization--was
not, perhaps, just the man that a person knowing in such matters would
have selected to pit against a New Mexico desperado in a hand-to-hand
conflict. But Grace felt her heart sink a little as she saw the round
and rather pursy form of her natural protector walk away into the depths
of a mirror at the forward end of the car, and so vanish. And in
this same mirror she beheld, seated only two sections behind her, the
scowling ruffian!

The situation, as Grace regarded it, was an alarming one; and it was
the more trying to her nerves because it did not, reasonably, admit of
action. She was aware that the very presence of a ruffian in a Pullman
car was in the nature of a promise, on his part, that for the time being
it was not his intention either to murder or to rob--unless, indeed,
he were one of a robber band, and was awaiting the appearance of his
confederates. For her either to call her uncle, or break in upon the
Emersonian seclusion of her aunt, she felt would not be well received,
under the circumstances, by either of these her relatives. As to the
porter, that sable functionary had vanished; there was no electric bell,
and the car, one of a Pullman train, had no conductor.

For protection, therefore, should need for protection arise, Grace
perceived that she must depend upon the one other passenger. (They had
lingered so long amid the delights of a Santa Barbara spring that
they were journeying in that pleasant time of year when spring travel
eastward has ended, and summer travel has not yet begun.) This one
other passenger was a little man of dapper build and dapper dress,
whose curiously-shaped articles of luggage betokened his connection with
commercial affairs. Grace