But she was not gone when, ten minutes later, Banneker came out.  He looked tired.

“You know, you weren’t very polite to me,” she remarked, glancing at him slantwise as he stood before her.

If she expected apologies, she was disappointed, and perhaps thought none the less of him for his dereliction.

“There’s trouble all up and down the line,” he said.  “Nothing like a schedule left west of Allbright.  Two passenger trains have come through, though.  Would you like to see a paper?  It’s in my office.”

“Goodness, no!  Why should I want a newspaper here?  I haven’t time for it.  I want to see the world”—­she swept a little, indicating hand about her; “all that I can take in in a day.”

“A day?” he echoed.

“Yes.  I’m going to-morrow.”

“That’s as may be.  Ten to one there’s no space to be had.”

“Surely you can get something for me.  A section will do if you can’t get a stateroom.”

He smiled.  “The president of the road might get a stateroom.  I doubt if anybody else could even land an upper.  Of course I’ll do my best.  But it’s a question when there’ll be another train through.”

“What ails your road?” she demanded indignantly.  “Is it just stuck together with glue?”

“You’ve never seen this desert country when it springs a leak.  It can develop a few hundred Niagaras at the shortest notice of any place I know.”

“But it isn’t leaking now,” she objected.

He turned his face to the softly diffused sunlight.  “To be continued.  The storm isn’t over yet, according to the way I feel about it.  Weather reports say so, too.”

“Then take me for a walk!” she cried.  “I’m tired of rain and I want to go over and lean against that lovely white mountain.”

“Well, it’s only sixty miles away,” he answered.  “Perhaps you’d better take some grub along or you might get hungry.”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“This is my busy morning.  If it were afternoon, now—­”

“Very well.  Since you are so urgent, I will stay to luncheon.  I’ll even get it up myself if you’ll let me into the shack.”

“That’s a go!” said Banneker heartily.  “What about your horse?”

“I walked over.”

“No; did you?” He turned thoughtful, and his next observation had a slightly troubled ring.  “Have you got a gun?”

“A gun?  Oh, you mean a pistol.  No; I haven’t.  Why should I?”

He shook his head.  “This is no time to be out in the open without a gun.  They had a dance at the Sick Coyote in Manzanita last night, and there’ll be some tough specimens drifting along homeward all day.”

“Do you carry a gun?”

“I would if I were going about with you.”

“Then you can loan me yours to go home with this afternoon,” she said lightly.

“Oh, I’ll take you back.  Just now I’ve got some odds and ends that will take a couple of hours to clear up.  You’ll find plenty to read in the shack, such as it is.”