He reached that
town in good season, left the team at a corral and walked back to
the Elk House. The white dust of the plains was heavy on him,
from the bandanna that loosely embraced the brown throat above
the flannel shirt to the encrusted boots but through it the good
humor of his tanned face smiled fraternally on a young woman he
passes at the entrance to the hotel. Her gay smile met his
cordially, and she was still in his mind while he ran his eye
down the register in search of the name he wanted. There it
was--Miss Nora Darling, Detroit, Michigan--in the neatest of
little round letters, under date of the previous day's arrivals.
"Is Miss Darling in?" asked McWilliams of the half-grown son of
the landlady who served in lieu of clerk and porter.
"Nope! Went out a little while ago. Said to tell anybody to wait
that asked for her."
Mac nodded, relieved to find that duty had postponed itself long
enough for him to pursue the friendly smile that had not been
wasted on him a few seconds before. He strolled out to the porch
and decided at once that he needed a cigar more than anything
else on earth. He was helped to a realization of his need by
seeing the owner of the smile disappear in an adjoining drug
store.
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