in time. The brakeman issued, stumping
noisily and bringing discord into my heaven of blue and gold and
comfortable warmth.

"Howdy, lady and gent? Breakfast in twenty minutes." He grinned affably at
her; yes, with a trace of familiarity. "Sleep well, madam?"

"Passably, thank you." Her voice held a certain element of calm
interrogation as if to ask how far he intended to push acquaintance.
"We're nearing Sidney, you say? Then I bid you gentlemen good-morning."

With a darting glance at him and a parting smile for me she passed inside.
The brakeman leaned for an instant's look ahead, up the track, and
lingered.

"Friend of yours, is she?"

"I met her at Omaha, is all," I stiffly informed.

"Considerable of a dame, eh?" He eyed me. "You're booked for Benton,
too?"

"Yes, sir."

"Never been there, myself. She's another hell-roarer, they say."

"Sir!" I remonstrated.

"Oh, the town, the town," he enlightened. "I'm saying nothing against it,
for that matter--nor against her, either. They're both O. K."

"You are acquainted with the lady, yourself?"

"Her? Sure. I know about everybody along the line between Platte and
Cheyenne. Been running on this division ever since it opened."

"She lives in Benton, though, I understand," I proffered.

"Why, yes; sure she does. Moved there from Cheyenne." He looked at me
queerly. "Naturally. Ain't that so?"

"Probably it is," I admitted. "I see no reason to doubt your word."

"Yep. Followed her man. A heap of people moved from Cheyenne to Benton, by
way of Laramie."

"She is married, then?"

"Far as I know. Anyway, she's not single, by a long shot." And he laughed.
"But, Lord, that cuts no great figger. People here don't stand on ceremony
in those matters. Everything's aboveboard. Hands on the table until time
to draw--then draw quick."

His language was a little too bluff for me.

"Her husband is in business, no doubt?"

"Business?" He stared unblinking. "I see." He laid a finger alongside his
nose, and winked wisely. "You bet yuh! And good business. Yes, siree. Are
you on?"

"Am I on?" I repeated. "On what? The train?"

"Oh, on your way."

"To Benton; certainly."

"Do you see any green in my eye, friend?" he demanded.

"I do not."

"Or in the moon, maybe?"

"No, nor in the moon," I retorted. "But what is all this about?"

"I'll be damned!" he roundly vouchsafed. And--"You've been having a quiet
little smile with her, eh?" He sniffed suspiciously.