accepted the druggist's
challenge. She was approaching--in a stranger-like manner--a ticket of
some sort held before her.

"Pardon me," she began, "but would you care to buy a ticket?"

"To--to what?" It was all Fairchild could think of to say.

"To the Old Timers' Dance. It's a sort of municipal thing, gotten up
by the bureau of mines--to celebrate the return of silver mining."

"But--but I 'm afraid I 'm not much on dancing."

"You don't have to be. Nobody 'll dance much--except the old-fashioned
affairs. You see, everybody 's supposed to represent people of the
days when things were booming around here. There 'll be a fiddle
orchestra, and a dance caller and everything like that, and a bar--but
of course there 'll only be imitation liquor. But," she added with
quick emphasis, "there 'll be a lot of things really real--real keno
and roulette and everything like that, and everybody in the costume of
thirty or forty years ago. Don't you want to buy a ticket? It's the
last one I 've got!" she added prettily. But Robert Fairchild had been
listening with his eyes, rather than his ears. Jerkily he came to the
realization that the girl had ceased speaking.

"When's it to be?"

"A week from to-morrow night. Are you going to be here that long?"

She realized the slip of her tongue and colored slightly. Fairchild,
recovered now, reached into a pocket and carefully fingered the bills
there. Then, with a quick motion, as he drew them forth, he covered a
ten-dollar bill with a one-dollar note and thrust them forward.

"Yes, I 'll take the ticket."

She handed it to him, thanked him, and reached for the money. As it
passed into her hand, a corner of the ten-dollar bill revealed itself,
and she hastily thrust it toward him as though to return money paid by
mistake. Just as quickly, she realized his purpose and withdrew her
hand.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, almost in a whisper, "I understand." She flushed
and stood a second hesitant, flustered, her big eyes almost childish as
they looked up into his. "You--you must think I 'm a cad!" Then she
whirled and left the store, and a slight smile came to the lips of
Robert Fairchild as he watched her hurrying across the street. He had
won a tiny victory, at least.

Not until she had rounded a corner and disappeared did Fairchild leave
his point of vantage. Then, with a new enthusiasm, a greater desire
than ever to win out in the fight which had brought him to Oha