herd of cattle,
driven with much shouting and galloping of horses by a half-dozen
cowboys. The herd was passing to the south a few hundred yards from the
station, but Sylvia, thoroughly used to such sights, was not interested.
Not so some of the others who went out to see, and among them was "King"
Plummer, who began at once to calculate the number of cattle, their
value, and how far they had come, all of which he did with great
shrewdness.

The "King's" absorption in this congenial occupation was increased when
he recognized the leader of the cowboys as an old friend and former
associate in Idaho and Montana, with whom he could exchange much
interesting news. Borrowing a horse from one of the men, he rode on with
them for a mile or two.

Mrs. Grayson had seen "King" Plummer leave the group about Sylvia, and
she marked it with a disapproving eye. She would have spoken to him
then, but she had no chance, and she watched him until he borrowed the
horse and rode on with the cowboys. Then she looked the other way and
saw two figures walking up and down the station platform. They were
Sylvia and Harley, engrossed in talk and caring not at all for the
passage of the herd. The two brown heads were not far apart, and Mrs.
Grayson was near enough to see that Sylvia's color was beautiful.

The candidate's wife was annoyed, and, like any other good woman, she
was ready to vent her annoyance on somebody. She walked out a little
from the station, and presently she met "King" Plummer coming back. He
dismounted, returned the horse to its owner, and approached her, the
sparkle of enthusiasm in his eyes lighting up his brown face.

"That was a pleasant surprise, Mrs. Grayson," he exclaimed. "The leader
of those boys was Bill Ascott, whom I've known twenty years, an' he's
brought those cattle so cleverly all the way from Montana that they are
in as good condition now as they were the day they started. And I had a
fine gallop with them, too."

He had more to say, but he stopped when he noticed her deeply frowning
face.

"What is wrong, Mrs. Grayson?" he asked, in apprehension.

"Oh, you had a fine gallop, did you!" she said, in a tone of biting
irony. "I am glad of it. Mr. William Plummer ought to have his gallop,
under any circumstances!"

He stared at her in increasing amazement.

"I don't know that I'm counted a dull man, but you've got me now, Mrs.
Grayson."

She pointed to the station platform, where the two brown heads