s wife."

"Ah, a family trouble?" said Harley, whose delicacy would have caused
him to refrain from asking more. But the garrulous cousin rambled on.

"It's a trouble, and it ain't a trouble," he continued. "It's the
weather and the crops, or maybe because Billy 'ain't had no weather nor
no crops, either. You see, he's lived for the last ten years on a
quarter-section out near Kalapoosa, with his wife, Susan, a good woman
and a terrible hard worker, but the rain's been mighty light for three
seasons, and Billy's wheat has failed every time. It's kinder got on
his temper, and, as they 'ain't got any children to take care of, Billy
he's been takin' to politics. Got an idea that he can speak, though he
can't, worth shucks, and thinks he's got a mission to whack Wall Street,
though I ain't sure but what Wall Street don't deserve it. Susan says he
ain't got any business in politics, that he ought to leave that to
better men, an' stay an' wrastle with the ground and the weather. So
that made them take to spattin'."

"And the upshot?"

"Waal, the upshot was that Billy said he could stand it no longer. So
last night he raked up half the spare cash, leavin' the rest and the
farm and stock to Susan, an' he loped out. But first he said he had to
hear Jimmy Grayson, who is mighty nigh a whole team of prophets to him,
and, as Jimmy's goin' west, right on his way, he's come along. But
to-night, at Jimmy's last stoppin'-place, he leaves us and takes a train
straight to the coast. I'm sorry, because if Susan had time to see him
and talk it over--you see, she's the man of the two--the whole thing
would blow over, and they'd be back on the farm, workin' hard, and with
good times ahead."

Harley was moved by this pathetic little tragedy of the plains, the
result of loneliness and hard times preying upon the tempers of two
people. "Poor devil!" he thought. "It's as his cousin says; if Susan
could only be face to face with him for five minutes, he'd drop his
foolish idea of running away and go home."

Then of that thought was born unto him a great idea, and he immediately
hunted up the cousin again.

"Is Kalapoosa a station on the telegraph line?" he asked.

"Oh yes."

"Would a telegram to that point be delivered to the Plover farm?"

"Yes. Why, what's up?"

"Nothing; I just wanted to know. Now, can you tell me what time
to-night, after our arrival, a man may take a train for the coast from
Weeping Water, our last stop?"

"W