-you said you honored me
for--?"

"I do," I exclaimed energetically, as she paused and colored.

"Do you really?" she cried. "I thought Fred was only trying to
make me less unhappy by saying that you did."

"I said it, and I meant it," I told her.

"I have been so miserable over that lie," she went on; "but I
thought if I let you have the letters it would ruin papa. I
really wouldn't mind poverty myself, Mr. Gordon, but he takes
such pride in success that I couldn't be the one to do it. And
then, after you told me that train-robbers were hung, I had to
lie to save them. I ought to have known you would help us."

I thought this a pretty good time to make a real apology for my
conduct on the trail, as well as to tell her how sorry I was at
not having been able to repack her bag better. She accepted my
apology very sweetly, and assured me her belongings had been put
away so neatly that she had wondered who did it. I knew she only
said this out of kindness, and told her so, telling also of my
struggles over that pink-beribboned and belaced affair, in a way
which made her laugh. I had thought it was a ball gown, and
wondered at her taking it to the Canyon; but she explained that it
was what she called a "throw"--which I told her accounted for the
throes I had gone through over it. It made me open my eyes,
thinking that anything so pretty could be used for the same
purposes for which I use my crash bath-gown, and while my eyes
were open I saw the folly of thinking that a girl who wore such
things would, or in fact could, ever get along on my salary. In
that way the incident was a good lesson for me, for it made me
feel that, even if there had been no Lord Ralles, I still should
have had no chance.

On our return to the cars there was a telegram from the
Postmaster-General awaiting me. After a glance at it, as the rest
of the party looked anxiously on, I passed it over to Miss
Cullen, for I wanted her to have the triumph of reading it aloud
to them. It read,--

"Hold letters pending arrival of special agent Jackson, due in
Flagstaff October twentieth."

"The election is the eighteenth," Frederic laughed, executing a
war dance on the platform. "The G. S.'s dough is cooked."

"I must waltz with some one," cried Madge, and before I could
offer she took hold of Albert and the two went whirling about,
much to my envy. The Cullens were about the most jubilant road
agents I had ever seen.

After consultation with Mr.