forward and apparently snatched something
from the folds of her skirt.

"Get on to your luck now," he said with an encouraging smile that played
havoc with the position of his features; "if here ain't your pocket-book
all the time!"

The hysterical woman looked from the unfamiliar little brown purse in
her hand, to the snub-nosed, grimy face of the young man running along
the track, then she caught her breath.

"Why,--" she cried unsteadily, "yes--yes, it's my purse."

Phelan loosened his hold on the railing and had only time to scramble
breathlessly up the bank before the down train, the train for Nashville
which was to have been his, whizzed past.

He watched it regretfully as it slowed up at the station, then almost
immediately pulled out again for the south, carrying his hopes with it.

"Corporal," said Phelan, to the dog, who had looked upon the whole
episode as a physical-culture exercise indulged in for his special
benefit, "a noble act of charity is never to be regretted, but wasn't I
the original gun, not to wait for the change?"

His lack of business method seemed to weigh upon him, and he continued
to apologize to Corporal:

"It was so sudden, you know, Corp. Couldn't see a lady ditched, when I
had a bit of stuffed leather in my pocket. And two hundred miles to
Nashville! Well I'll--be--jammed!"

He searched in his trousers pockets and found a dime in one and a hole
in the other. It was an old trick of his to hide a piece of money in
time of prosperity, and then discover it in the blackness of adversity.

He held the dime out ruefully: "That's punk and plaster for supper, but
we'll have to depend on a hand-out for breakfast. And, Corp," he added
apologetically, "you know I told you we was going to ride regular like
gentlemen? Well, I've been compelled to change my plans. We are going to
turf it twelve miles down to the watering tank, and sit out a couple of
dances till the midnight freight comes along. If a side door Pullman
ain't convenient, I'll have to go on the bumpers, then what'll become of
you, Mr. Corporal Harrihan?"

The coming ordeal cast no shadow over Corporal. He was declaring his
passionate devotion, by wild tense springs at Phelan's face, seeking in
vain to overcome the cruel limitation of a physiognomy that made kissing
well-nigh impossible.

Phelan picked up his small bundle and started down the track with the
easy, regular swing of one who has long since gaged the distance of