conductor, and the man who was figuring turned and looked
back at her, evidently attracted by the soft note of her voice. But he
made no effort at advances, returning immediately to his pad, oblivious
to all else.

It was growing dusk, the outside world, now consisting of level plains,
fading into darkness, with a few great stars burning overhead. Trainsmen
lit the few smoking oil lamps screwed against the sides of the car, and
its occupants became little more than dim shadows. All by this time
were fatigued into silence, and several were asleep, finding such small
comfort as was possible on the cramped seats. Hope glanced toward the
heretofore noisy group at the rear--the girl nearest her rested with
unconscious head pillowed upon the shoulder of her man friend, and both
were sleeping. How haggard and ghastly the woman's powdered face looked,
with the light just above it, and all semblance of joy gone. It was
as though a mask had been taken off. Out in the darkness the engine
whistled sharply and then came to a bumping stop at some desert station.
Through the black window a few lanterns could be seen flickering about,
and there arose the sound of gruff voices speaking. The sleepers
inside, aroused by the sharp stop, rolled over and swore, seeking
easier postures. Then the front door opened, and slammed shut, and a new
passenger entered. He came down the aisle, glancing carelessly at the
upturned faces, and finally sank into the seat directly opposite Hope.
He was a broad shouldered man, his coat buttoned to the throat, with
strong face showing clearly beneath the broad hat brim and lighted up
with a pair of shrewd, kindly eyes. The conductor came through, nodded
at him, and passed on. Hope thought he must be some official of the
road, and ventured to break the prolonged silence with a question:

"Could you tell me how long it will be before we reach Sheridan?"

She had partially pushed aside her veil in order to speak more clearly,
and the man, turning at sound of her voice, took off his hat, his
searching eyes quizzical.

"Well, no, I can't, madam," the words coming with a jerk. "For I'm not
at all sure we'll keep the track. Ought to make it in an hour, however,
if everything goes right. Live in Sheridan?"

She shook her head, uncertain how frankly to answer.

"No loss to you--worst place to live in on earth--no exceptions--I
know--been there myself three months--got friends there likely?"

"I hardly know," she