fly-specked mirror hung over a tin basin and pitcher. The floor sagged
fearfully and the side walls lacked several inches of reaching the
ceiling. Even in the dim candle light of the evening before, the bed
coverings had looked so forbidding that Molly had compromised, lying
down, half-dressed on the outside; now, in the garish glare of
returning day they appeared positively filthy. And this was the best
to be had; she realized that, her courage failing at the thought of
remaining alone amid such surroundings. As she washed, using a towel
of her own after a single glance at the hotel article, and did up her
rebellious hair, she came to a prompt decision. She would go directly
on--would take the first stage. Perhaps her father, or whomever he
sent, would be met with along the route. The coaches had regular
meeting stations, so there was small danger of their missing each
other. Even if she was compelled to wait over at Fort Dodge, the
environment there could certainly be no more disagreeable than this.

The question of possible danger was dismissed almost without serious
thought. She had seen no papers since leaving St. Louis, and the news
before that contained nothing more definite than rumors of uneasiness
among the Plains Indians. Army officers interviewed rather made light
of the affair, as being merely the regular outbreak of young warriors,
easily suppressed. On the train she had met with no one who treated
the situation as really serious, and, if it was, then surely her father
would send some message of restraint. Satisfied upon this point, and
fully determined upon departing at the earliest opportunity, she
ventured down the narrow, creaking stairs in search of breakfast.

The dining-room was discovered at the foot of the steps, a square box
of a place, the two narrow windows looking forth on the desolate
prairie. There were three long tables, but only one was in use, and,