"Put your pack on the floor and yerself in the chair, and I'll get ye
filled up in the blink of an eyelash. Don't be mindin' the cat, Ricks.
She's just lettin' on she don't take to you. She give me the wink on
the sly."

Ricks, expanding under the influence of food and drink, became
eloquent. He recounted courageous adventures of the past, and outlined
marvelous schemes for the future, by which he was going to make a
short cut to fame and glory.

When it was time for him to go, Sandy heaved a sigh of regret. For
two hours he had been beguiled by Ricks's romances, and now he had to
go back to the humdrum duties at the depot, and receive a sound rating
for his belated appearance.

"Which way might you be goin', Ricks?" he asked wistfully.

"Same place I started fer," said Ricks. "Kentucky."

The will-o'-the-wisp, which had been hiding his light, suddenly swung
it full in the eyes of Sandy. Once more he saw the little maid of his
dreams, and once more he threw discretion to the winds and followed
the vision.

Hastily collecting his few possessions, he rolled them into a bundle,
and slipping the surprised kitten into his pocket, he gladly followed
Ricks once more out into the broad green meadows, along the white and
shining roads that lead over the hills to Kentucky.