station, which a minute later became a prospect of
familiar, kindly, beaming faces. There was a roar of "Hello, Jack!" in
the heavy voices of men and the treble of children. Then he did not see
the faces at all for a second; he saw only mist.

"Not tanned, Jack, but you'll brown up soon!"

"Gosh! But we've been lonesome without you!"

"Cure any case of sore eyes on record!"

Jack was too full of the glory of this unaffected welcome in answer to
his telegram that he was coming to find words at first; but as he fairly
dropped off the steps into the arms of Jim Galway and Dr. Patterson he
shouted in a shaking voice:

"Hello, everybody! Hello, Little Rivers!"

He noted, while all were trying to grasp his hands at once, that the men
had their six-shooters. A half-dozen were struggling to get his suit
case. Not one of his friends was missing except the Doge and Mary.

"Let the patient have a little air!" protested Dr. Patterson, as some
started in to shake hands a second time.

"Fellow-citizens, if there's anything in the direct primary I feel sure
of the nomination!" said Jack drily.

"You're already elected!" shouted Bob Worther.

Around at the other side of the station Jack found Firio waiting his turn
in patient isolation, with P.D., Wrath of God, and Jag Ear.

"_Si! si_!" called Firio triumphantly to all the sceptics who had told
him that Jack would not return.

Jack took the little Indian by the shoulders and rocked him back and
forth in delight, while Firio's eyes were burning coals of jubilation.

"You knew!" Jack exclaimed. "You were right! I have come back!"

"_Si, si_! I know!" repeated Firio.

"No stopping him from bringing the whole cavalcade to the station,
either," said Jim Galway. "And he wouldn't join the rest of us out in
front of the station. He was going to be his own reception committee and
hold an overflow meeting all by himself!"

There was no disguising the fact that the equine trio of veterans
remembered Jack. With P.D. and Jag Ear the demonstration was
unrestrained; but however exultant Wrath of God might be in secret, he
was of no mind to compromise his reputation for lugubriousness by any
public display of emotional weakness.

"Wrath of God, I believe you were a cross-eyed Cromwellian soldier in
your previous incarnation!" said Jack; "and as it is hard for a horse to
be crosseyed, you could not retain the characteristic. Think of that!
Wouldn't a cross-eyed Cromwellian soldier s