"No, sir," said Edgar. "In my opinion, any attempt to extract reliable
information from a Canadian railroad-hand is a waste of time. No
doubt, it's so scarce that it hurts them to part with it."

The Westerner looked at him with a little hard smile. He was tall and
gaunt and dressed in baggy clothes, but there was a hint of power in
his face, which was lined, and deeply bronzed by exposure to the
weather.

"Well," he retorted, "what do you expect, Percy, if you talk to them
like that? But I want to thank you and your partner for taking care of
my girl when she went to see the wreck. Fellow on the cars told
me--said you were a gritty pup!"

Edgar looked confused, but the man drew an old skin bag out of his
pocket.

"It's domestic leaf; take a smoke."

"No, thanks," said Edgar quickly. "I've no doubt it's excellent, but I
really prefer the common Virginia stuff."

"Matter of habit," replied the other. "I don't carry cigars; they're
expensive. Going far West?"

"We get off at Sage Butte."

"It's called Butte. I'm located in that district."