shal, with unexpected delicacy, sauntered out into the street.

Now that he was actually face to face with the problem of answering
Mary's letter in ten words the youth's hand refused to write, and he
stood looking at the yellow slip of paper with an intensity that was
comical to the clerk. Plainly this cowboy was not accustomed to
telegraphing.

Mose felt the waiting presence of the clerk and said:

"Can I set down here and think it over?"

"Why sure, take a seat at that table over there."

Under the pressure of his emotion Mose wrote "Dear Mary" and stopped.
The chap at the other end of the line would read that and comment on it.
He struck that out. Then it occurred to him that if he signed it "Harry"
_this_ operator would marvel, and if he signed "Mose" the other end of
the line would wonder. He rose, crushing the paper in his hand, and went
out into the street. There was only one way--to write.

This he did standing at the ink-bespattered shelf which served as
writing desk in the post office.

"DEAR MARY: I have just received your letter. It's a little
late but perhaps it ain't too late. Anyhow, I'm banking on
this finding you just the same as when you wrote. I wish I
could visit you again but I'm afraid I couldn't do it a
second time without being recognized, but write to me at
once, and, if you say come, I'll come. I am poorer than I was
four years ago, but I've been on the trail, I know the
mountains now. There's no other place for me, but I get
lonesome sometimes when I think of you. I'm no good at
writing letters--can't write as well as I could when I was
twenty, so don't mind my short letter, but if I could see
you! Write at once and I'll borrow or steal enough money to
pay my way to you--I don't expect to ever see you out here in
the West."

While still pondering over his letter he heard the rustle of a woman's
dress and turned to face the princess, in magnificent attire, her gloved
hand extended toward him, her face radiant with pleasure.

"Why, my dear boy, where have you been?"

Mose shook hands, his letter to Mary (still unsealed) in his left hand.
"Been down on the range," he mumbled in profound embarrassment.

She assumed a girlish part. "But you _promised_ to come and see me."

He turned away to seal his letter and she studied him with admiring
eyes. He was so interesting in his boyish confusion--graceful in spite
of his irrelevant