lready engaged, indicating to the other two girls who served with
her in the dining-room that this was her special customer and guest of
honor. She whirled the merry-go-round caster to bring the salt and
pepper to his hand; just so she placed his knife and fork, and plate
overturned to keep the flies off the business side of it. Then she
hurried away for his breakfast, asking no questions bearing on his
preferences or desires.

A plain breakfast in those vigorous times was unvarying--beefsteak, ham
or bacon to give it a savor, eggs, fried potatoes, hot biscuits, coffee.
It was the same as dinner, which came on the stroke of twelve, and none
of your six-o'clock pretenses about _that_ meal, except there was no
pie; identical with supper, save for the boiled potatoes and rice
pudding. A man of proper proportions never wanted any more; he could not
thrive on any less. And the only kind of a liver they ever worried about
in that time on the plains of Kansas was a white one. That was the only
disease of that organ known.

Dora was troubled; her face reflected her unrest as glass reflects
firelight, her blue eyes were clouded by its gloom. She made a pretense
of brushing crumbs from the cloth where there were no crumbs, in order
to furnish an excuse to stoop and bring her lips nearer Morgan's ear.

"He's comin' on the one-twenty this afternoon--I got it straight he's
comin'. I thought maybe you'd like to know," she said.

Morgan lifted his eyes in feigned surprise at this news, not having it
in his heart to cloud her generous act by the revelation of a suspicion
that it was no news to him.

"You mean----?"

"I got it straight," Dora nodded.

"Thank you, Miss Dora."

"I hope to God," she said, for it was their manner to speak ardently in
Ascalon in those days, "you'll beat him to it when he gets off of the
train!"

"A man can only do his best, Dora," he said gently, moved by her honest
friendship, simple wild thing though she was.

"If I was a man I'd take my gun and go with you to meet him," she
declared.

"I know you would. But maybe there'll not be any fuss at all."

"There'll be fuss enough, all right!" Dora protested. "If he comes
alone--but maybe he'll not _come_ alone."

A man who rose from a near-by table came over to shake hands with
Morgan, and express his appreciation for the good beginning he had made
as peace officer of the town. Dora snatched Morgan's cup and hastened
away for more coffee. When sh