o
the mails. So I wrote only of what was first in my thoughts; herself,
and my longing to see her, of the noisy political strife, and of the
Saline River and Solomon River outrages, I hurried this letter to the
outgoing stage and fell in with the crowd gathering late in the
dining-room. I was half way through my meal before I remembered Rachel's
invitation.

"I can only be rude to her, it seems, but I'll offer my excuses, and
maybe she will let me have the honor of her company home. She will hunt
me up before I get out of the hall, I am sure." So I satisfied myself
and prepared for the evening gathering.

It was much on the order of the other meeting, except that only seasoned
party leaders were given place on the programme.

I asked Rachel for her company home, but she laughingly refused me.

"I must punish you," she said. "When do you go home?"

"Not for two days," I replied. "I have business for my father and the
person I am to see is called out of town."

"Then there will be plenty of time later for you. You go home to-morrow,
Mr. Tillhurst," she said coquettishly. "Tell his friends in Springvale,
he is busy up here." She was a pretty girl, but slow as I was, I began
to see method in her manner of procedure. I could not be rude to her,
but I resolved then not to go one step beyond the demands of actual
courtesy.

In the crowd passing up to the hotel that night, I fell into step with
my father's soldier friend, Morton.

"When you get ready to leave Springvale, come out and take a claim on
the Saline," he said. "That will be a garden of Eden some day."

"It seems to have its serpent already, Mr. Morton," I replied.

"Well, the serpent can be crushed. Come out and help us do it. We need
numbers, especially in men of endurance." We were at the hotel door.
Morton bade me good-bye by saying, "Don't forget; come our way when you
get the Western fever."

Governor Crawford returned too late for me to catch the stage for
Springvale on the same day. Having a night more to spend in the capital,
it seemed proper for me to make amends for my unpardonable forgetfulness
of Rachel Melrose's invitation to tea by calling on her in the evening.
Her aunt's home was at the far side of the town beyond the modest square
stone building that was called Lincoln College then. It was only a
stone's throw from the State Capitol, the walls of the east wing of
which were then being built.

I remember it was a beautiful moonlit night