farther along the platform to avoid them, they followed.  Heretofore passive, the innate racial hostility became active.  One youth with a dare-devil air jostled him—­and disappeared precipitately.  There was no response, no retaliation, and another followed his example.  The confusion redoubled, drowned the roar of the approaching train.  Spectators in the rear began mounting trucks and empty barrels the better to see.  Within the station itself the shirt-sleeved agent surreptitiously locked the door to the ticket-room and sprung the combination of the safe.  Beginning harmlessly, the incident was taking on a sinister aspect, and he had lived too long in this semi-lawless land to take any chances.  Re-turning to his place of observation at the window, he was just in time to see a decayed turnip come hurtling over the heads of the crowd and, with enviable accuracy, catch the Indian behind the ear.  Simultaneously, with a roar and a puff of displaced air, the light train drew into the station, on time.

Through it all the Indian had not spoken a word.  Save to move twice farther away along the platform, he had not stirred.  Unbelievable as it may seem, even when the missile had struck him, though it had left a great red welt, he gave no sign of feeling.  For a space following the arrival of the train there was a lull, and in it, as though nothing had happened, he approached the single coach and stood waiting.

It was the last of the week and travel was very light.

A dapper commercial salesman with an imitation alligator grip descended first, looked about him apprehensively, and disappeared with speed.  A big rancher with great curling moustaches and a vest open save at the bottom button followed.  He likewise took stock of the surroundings, and discreetly withdrew.  Following him there was a pause; then of a sudden onto the platform, fair into view of the crowd, appeared one for whom apparently they had been looking, one who on the instant caused the confusion, temporarily stilled, to break forth anew:  the figure of a dainty brown girl with sensitive eyes and a soft oval chin, of Elizabeth Landor returned alone!

“Ah, there she is,” shouted a voice, an united voice, the refound voice of the expectant crowd.

“Yes, there she is,” repeated the intrepid youth who had introduced the jostle.  “Go to, redskin.  Kiss her again.  Kiss her; we don’t mind.”

A great shout followed this sally, a shout that was heard far up the single street, and that brought curious faces to a half score of doors.

“No, we don’t mind, redskin,” they guffawed.  “Go to!  Go to!”

Hesitant, hopelessly confused, the girl halted as she had appeared.  Her great eyes opened wider than before, her face shaded paler momentarily, the soft oval chin trembled.  Another minute, another second even.

“Come Bess,” said a low voice.  “Come on; don’t mind them.  I’ll take care of you.”