room her foreman pounced upon Helen and led her to a place in the
head set that was making up. The floor was rough, the music jerky
and uncertain, the quadrilling an exhibition of joyous and
awkward abandon; but its picturesque lack of convention appealed
to the girl from Michigan. It rather startled her to be swung so
vigorously, but a glance about the room showed that these
humorous-eyed Westerners were merely living up to the duty of the
hour as they understood it.

At the close of the quadrille Helen found herself being
introduced to "Mr. Robins," alias Slim, who drew one of his feet
back in an embarrassed bow.

"I enjoy to meet y'u, ma'am," he assured her, and supplemented
this with a request for the next dance, after which he fell into
silence that was painful in its intensity.

Nearly all the dances were squares, as few of those present
understood the intricacies of the waltz and two-step. Hence it
happened that the proficient McWilliams secured three round
dances with his mistress.

It was during the lunch of sandwiches, cake and coffee that Helen
perceived an addition to the company. The affair had been
advertised a costume ball, but most of those present had
construed this very liberally. She herself, to be sure, had come
as Mary Queen of Scots, Mac was arrayed in the scarlet tunic and
tight-fitting breeches of the Northwest Mounted Police, and
perhaps eight or ten others had made some attempt at representing
some one other than they were. She now saw another, apparently a