r low forehead, and the short, stubby
fingers grasping knife and fork.

If he is a drummer, she thought, his line would be whisky; then, almost
as suddenly, it occurred to her that perhaps he may prove to be Ned
Beaton, and she drew in her breath sharply, determined to break the ice.

The waitress spread out the various dishes before her, and she glanced
at them hopelessly. As she lifted her gaze she met that of her
_vis-a-vis_ fairly, and managed to smile.

"Some chuck," he said in an attempt at good-fellowship, "but not to
remind you of the Waldorf-Astoria."

"I should say not," she answered, testing one of her dishes cautiously.
"But why associate me with New York?"

"You can't hide those things in a joint like this. Besides, that's the
way you registered."

"Oh, so you've looked me up."

"Well, naturally," he explained, as though with a dim idea that an
explanation was required, "I took a squint at the register; then I
became more interested, for I'm from little old New York myself."

"You are? Selling goods on the road away out here?"

"Not me; that ain't my line at all. I've got a considerable mining
deal on up the canon. I'll earn every dollar I'll make, though, eating
this grub. Believe me, I'd like to be back by the Hudson right now."

"You've been here some time, then?"

"'Bout a month altogether, but not here in Haskell all that time. When
did you leave New York?"

"Oh, more than a week ago," she lied gracefully.

He stroked his moustache.

"Then I suppose you haven't much late New York news? Nothing
startling, I mean?"

"No; only what has been reported in the Western papers. I do not
recall anything particularly interesting." She dropped her eyes to her
plate and busied herself with a piece of tough beef. "The usual
murders, of course, and things of that kind."

There was a moment's silence, then the man laughed as though slightly
ill at ease.

"These fellows out here think they are a pretty tough lot," he said
grimly, "but there are plenty of boys back on the East Side who could
show them a few tricks. You know that part of the old town?"

"Not very well," she admitted with apparent regret, "but of course I
read a good bit about it in the papers--the desperate characters,
gunmen, and all those the police have so much trouble with. Are those
stories really true?"

"There ain't a third of them ever told," and he leaned forward, quite
at his ease again. "I have some busin