live here?" he asked.

The answer was prompt, if rather indefinite. "Um-hm," said the driver.
"No less'n fourteen of him lives here. Which one do you want?"

"A Mr. Z. Snow."

"Mr. Z. Snow, eh? Humph! I don't seem to recollect any Mr. Z. Snow
around nowadays. There used to be a Ziba Snow, but he's dead. 'Twan't
him you wanted, was it?"

"No. The one I want is--is a Captain Snow. Captain--" he paused before
uttering the name which to his critical metropolitan ear had seemed
so dreadfully countrified and humiliating; "Captain Zelotes Snow," he
blurted, desperately.

Jim Young laughed aloud. "Good land, Doc!" he cried, turning toward his
passenger; "I swan I clean forgot that Cap'n Lote's name begun with a
Z. Cap'n Lote Snow? Why, darn sure! I . . . Eh?" He stopped short,
evidently struck by a new idea. "Sho!" he drawled, slowly. "Why,
I declare I believe you're . . . Yes, of course! I heard they was
expectin' you. Doc, you know who 'tis, don't you? Cap'n Lote's grandson;
Janie's boy."

He took the lighted lantern from under the wagon seat and held it up so
that its glow shone upon the face of the youth standing by the wheel.

"Hum," he mused. "Don't seem to favor Janie much, does he, Doc. Kind of
got her mouth and chin, though. Remember that sort of good-lookin' set
to her mouth she had? And SHE got it from old Cap'n Lo himself. This
boy's face must be more like his pa's, I cal'late. Don't you cal'late
so, Doc?"

Whether Doctor Holliday cal'lated so or not he did not say. It may be
that he thought this cool inspection of and discussion concerning a
stranger, even a juvenile stranger, somewhat embarrassing to its object.
Or the lantern light may have shown him an ominous pucker between the
boy's black brows and a flash of temper in the big black eyes beneath
them. At any rate, instead of replying to Mr. Young, he said, kindly:

"Yes, Captain Snow lives in the village. If you are going to his house
get right in here. I live close by, myself."

"Darned sure!" agreed Mr. Young, with enthusiasm. "Hop right in, sonny."

But the boy hesitated. Then, haughtily ignoring the driver, he said: "I
thought Captain Snow would be here to meet me. He wrote that he would."

The irrepressible Jim had no idea of remaining ignored. "Did Cap'n Lote
write you that he'd be here to the depot?" he demanded. "All right, then
he'll be here, don't you fret. I presume likely that everlastin' mare
of his has eat herself sick again; eh, Do