But she had not reckoned on Boyle’s perfect good-humor.  That gentle idiot stooped down, actually gathered them up again, and was following!  She hurried on; if she could only get to the coach first, ignoring him!  But a vulgar man like that would be sure to hand them to her with some joke!  Then she lagged again—­she was getting tired, and she could see no sign of the coach.  The drummer, too, was also lagging behind—­at a respectful distance, like a groom or one of her father’s troopers.  Nevertheless this did not put her in a much better humor, and halting until he came abreast of her, she said impatiently:  “I don’t see why Mr. Foster should think it necessary to send any one to look after me.”

“He didn’t,” returned Boyle simply.  “I got down to pick up something.”

“To pick up something?” she returned incredulously.

“Yes.  That.”  He held out the card.  “It’s the card of our firm.”

Miss Cantire smiled ironically.  “You are certainly devoted to your business.”

“Well, yes,” returned Boyle good-humoredly.  “You see I reckon it don’t pay to do anything halfway.  And whatever I do, I mean to keep my eyes about me.”  In spite of her prejudice, Miss Cantire could see that these necessary organs, if rather flippant, were honest.  “Yes, I suppose there isn’t much on that I don’t take in.  Why now, Miss Cantire, there’s that fancy dust cloak you’re wearing—­it isn’t in our line of goods—­nor in anybody’s line west of Chicago; it came from Boston or New York, and was made for home consumption!  But your hat—­and mighty pretty it is too, as you’ve fixed it up—­is only regular Dunstable stock, which we could put down at Pine Barrens for four and a half cents a piece, net.  Yet I suppose you paid nearly twenty-five cents for it at the Agency!”

Oddly enough this cool appraisement of her costume did not incense the young lady as it ought to have done.  On the contrary, for some occult feminine reason, it amused and interested her.  It would be such a good story to tell her friends of a “drummer’s” idea of gallantry; and to tease the flirtatious young West Pointer who had just joined.  And the appraisement was truthful—­Major Cantire had only his pay—­and Miss Cantire had been obliged to select that hat from the government stores.

“Are you in the habit of giving this information to ladies you meet in traveling?” she asked.

“Well, no!” answered Boyle—­“for that’s just where you have to keep your eyes open.  Most of ’em wouldn’t like it, and it’s no use aggravating a possible customer.  But you are not that kind.”

Miss Cantire was silent.  She knew she was not of that kind, but she did not require his vulgar indorsement.  She pushed on for some moments alone, when suddenly he hailed her.  She turned impatiently.  He was carefully examining the road on both sides.

“We have either lost our way,” he said, rejoining her, “or the coach has turned off somewhere.  These tracks are not fresh, and as they are all going the same way, they were made by the up coach last night.  They’re not our tracks; I thought it strange we hadn’t sighted the coach by this time.”