occurred often
enough for some of his acquaintances in Gumbolt to rally him about it.

"You will have to look out for Mr. Bluffy again," they said. "He's run
J. Quincy off the track, and he's still in the ring. He's layin' low;
but that's the time to watch a mountain cat. He's on your track."

Mr. Plume, who was always very friendly with Keith, declared that it was
not Bluffy, but Keith, who had run him off the track. "It's a case where
virtue has had its reward," he said to Keith. "You have overthrown more
than your enemy, Orlando. You have captured the prize we were all trying
for. Take the goods the gods provide, and while you live, live. The
epicurean is the only true philosopher. Come over and have a cocktail?
No? Do you happen to have a dollar about your old clothes? I have not
forgotten that I owe you a little account; but you are the only man of
soul in this--Gehenna except myself, and I'd rather owe you ten dollars
than any other man living."

Keith's manner more than his words shut up most of his teasers. Nothing
would shut up J. Quincy Plume.

Keith always treated Terpsichore with all the politeness he would have
shown to any lady. He knew that she was now his friend, and he had
conceived a sincere liking for her. She was shy and very quiet when a
passenger on his stage, ready to do anything he asked, obedient to any
suggestion he gave her.

It happened that, the night Wickersham chose for his trip to Gumbolt,
Keith had relieved old Gilsey, and he found her at the Eden end of the
route among his passengers. She had just arrived from Gumbolt by another
vehicle and was now going straight back. As Keith came around, the young
woman was evidently preparing to take the box-seat. He was conscious of
a feeling of embarrassment, which was not diminished by the fact that
Jake Dennison, his old pupil, was also going over. Jake as well as Dave
was now living at Gumbolt. Jake was in all the splendor of a black coat
and a gilded watch-chain, for he had been down to the Ridge to see Miss
Euphronia Tripper.

It had been a misty day, and toward evening the mist had changed into a
drizzle.

Keith said to Terpsichore, with some annoyance:

"You had better go inside. It's going to be a bad night."

A slight change came over her face, and she hesitated. But when he
insisted, she said quietly, "Very well."

As the passengers were about to take their seats in the coach, a young
man enveloped in a heavy ulster came hur