e, wanderer that he was. He blew a great mouthful of blue smoke
into the still air, watched it circle lazily upward, and blew another to
hasten the progress of the first. His black eyes, peering from a forest of
eyebrows and whiskers, looked long upon the blossoms that clothed Elk
Creek Valley--sunflowers, early golden-rod and purple thistles--swept the
friendly, tumbling foot-hills and sought beneath the over-hanging trees
for the secrets of the creek. It was a morning to love things, Mr. Crusoe
thought to himself. He was glad that he had left his comrades of the
railroad tracks; more glad that he had abandoned freight-jumping for a
season; most glad that he had decided to work during the early fall
months. Then with money in his pockets and a new suit of clothes upon his
back, he might go back to Cripple Creek whence he had come.

A few minutes later his contemplations were broken by the sound of horses'
feet coming through the Gap. He sat up, interested, and removed his pipe.
In another moment as he met the wide-open eyes of two very much startled
young ladies, his hat followed. Mr. Crusoe was used to speaking to persons
whom he met in his journeyings. It was one of the many joys of the road.

"Good-mornin', comrades," said he.

The hearts of Mary and Vivian leaped into their throats. Their eyes,
leaving Mr. Crusoe's, saw in one terrifying instant the shirt drying on
the quaking-asp, the smoldering fire, the empty bean-can. This man was a
tramp! He belonged to that disgusting clan of vagabonds who asked for food
at back-doors, and whom one, if frightened into doing it, fed on back
stoops as one fed the cat! He, like his fellows, would inspire one to lock
all the doors at noonday, and to tell one's neighbors there was a tramp
abroad!

"Good-mornin'," said Mr. Crusoe again. "It's a fine day."

This time Mary answered. She did not dare keep silent. The tramp might
become angry.

"Good-morning," she faltered.

Vivian said nothing. She was waiting for Mary to plan a means of escape.
Meanwhile Siwash and his companion, feeling their reins tighten, had
stopped and were nibbling at the quaking-asps, quite undisturbed.

Mr. Crusoe rose, hat in hand.

"Was you plannin' to ford, young ladies?" he asked politely.

The vanishing flanks of two horses, unceremoniously yanked away from their
luncheon and turned toward the prairie, were his only answer. Mr. Crusoe
gazed wonderingly into a cloud of dust. Then he felt of his