glowing,
was a new Dallas.

"Well, how've you all been?" asked Lounsbury, accepting a bench.

"Oh, spright 'nough," answered the section-boss. "But it's cold, it's
cold. Keeps me tremblin' like a guilty nigger."

"You'll get over that," assured the other, rubbing the blood into his
hands. "It's natural for you to be soft as chalk-rock the first
winter--you've been living South."

"Ah reckon," agreed Lancaster. He sat down beside the younger man,
eyeing him closely. "How d' y' come t' git away fr'm business?" he
queried.

"Well, you see," Lounsbury answered, "I've got an A 1 man in my Bismarck
store, and at Clark's there's nothing to do week days, hardly. So I just
took some tobacco to Skinney's, where the boys could get at it, and
loped down here." Then, playfully, "But I don't see much happening in
these parts." He stretched toward a window. "The town of Lancaster ain't
growing very fast."

Dallas, seated on a bench with Marylyn, looked across at him smilingly.
"I'm glad of it," she declared. "We ain't used to towns."

"You folks've never lived in one?"

"No--we never even _been_ in one."

He puckered his forehead. "Funny," he said. "Somehow, I always think of
you two as town girls."

"Aw, shucks!" exclaimed Lancaster, scowling.

But Dallas was leaning forward, interested. "That's on account of our
teachers," she said. "There was a school-house up the track, in Texas,
and we went to it on the hand-car. Every year we had a different
teacher, and all of 'em came from big Eastern places like New Orleans
or St. Louis. So--so you see, we kinda got towny from our
school-ma'ams."

"One had a gold tooth," put in Marylyn. Her eyes, wide with
recollection, were fixed upon Lounsbury.

"But you passed through cities coming north," argued the storekeeper.

"N-n-no," said Dallas, slowly; "we--we skirted 'em."

"What a pity!" He turned to the section-boss.

"Pity!" echoed the latter. "Huh! You save you' pity. My gals is better
off ef they don' meet no town hoodlums."

It had been "soldier trash" before; now, it was "town hoodlums."
Lounsbury wondered why _he_ had been allowed a second call. He glanced
at the girls. There was a sudden shadow on each young face. He changed
to the fire, and looked hard at it. How cut off they were! Where was
their happiness--except in their home? And could he tell them even that
was threatened?

"Not by a long shot!" he vowed. "I'll trust Old Michael."

He set himself to being