er. A felt hat, narrow-brimmed and
beautifully creased in the crown, sat gracefully upon his head. His
light overcoat was baggy enough in the back to hold another man, as Mr.
Heathcote was not large, and white spats were the final touch of an
outfit that made the less sophisticated of the spectators gasp. "King"
Plummer swore half audibly.

"I wish my luggage to be carried up to the hotel," said Mr. Heathcote,
importantly, to the station agent.

"He calls it 'luggage,' and this in Colorado!" groaned Hobart.

"Your what?" exclaimed the station agent, a large man in his
shirt-sleeves, with a pen thrust behind his ear.

"My luggage; my trunk," replied Mr. Heathcote.

"Then you had better carry it yourself; I've nothing to do with it,"
said the agent, with Western brusqueness, as he turned away.

Harley, always ready to seize an opportunity, and resolved to mitigate
things, stepped forward.

"I beg your pardon, but this is Mr. Heathcote, is it not?" he asked,
courteously.

The committeeman put a glass in his eye and regarded him quite coolly.
Harley, despite his habitual self-control, shuddered. He did not mind
the supercilious gaze, but he knew the effect of the monocle upon the
crowd.

"Yes, I am Mr. Heathcote," said the committeeman, "and you ah--I--don't
believe--ah--"

"I haven't been introduced," said Harley, with a smile, "but I can
introduce myself; it's all right here in the West. I merely wanted to
tell you that you had better get them at the hotel to send the porter
down for your trunk. There are no carriages, but it's only a short walk
to the hotel. It's the large white building on the hill in front of
you."

"Thank you--ah--Mr. Hardy."

"Harley," corrected the correspondent, quietly.

"I was about to say--ah--that the press can make itself useful at
times."

Harley flushed slightly.

"Yes, even under the most adverse circumstances," he said.

But Mr. Heathcote was already on the way to the hotel, his white spats
gleaming in the sunshine. It was evident that he intended to keep the
press in its proper place.

"You made a mistake when you volunteered your help, Harley," said
Hobart. "A man like that should be received with a club. But you just
wait until the West gets through with him. Your revenge will be brought
to you on a silver plate."

"I'm not thinking of myself," replied Harley, gravely. "It's the effect
of this on Jimmy Grayson's campaign that's bothering me. Colorado is
doubtfu