grimace, she turned her back upon it and looked out of the window. Then she
stood up impatiently, looked at her watch, and sat down again upon the red
plush chair.

"He didn't tell me whether Manley is sick," she said suddenly, with some
resentment. "He was awfully abrupt in his manner. Oh, you--" She rose,
picked up an old newspaper from the marble-topped table with uncertain
legs, and spread it ungently over the portrait upon the easel. Then she
went to the window and looked out again. "I feel perfectly sure that cowboy
went and got drunk immediately," she complained, drumming pettishly upon
the glass. "And I don't suppose he told Manley at all."

The cowboy was innocent of the charge, however, and he was doing his
energetic best to tell Manley. He had gone straight through the saloon and
into the small room behind, where a man lay sprawled upon a bed in one
corner. He was asleep, and his clothes were wrinkled as if he had lain
there long. His head rested upon his folded arms, and he was snoring
loudly. The young fellow went up and took him roughly by the shoulder.

"Here! I thought I told you to straighten up," he cried disgustedly. "Come
alive! The train's come and gone, and your girl's waiting for you over to
the hotel. D' you hear?"

"Uh-huh!" The man opened one eye, grunted, and closed it again.

The other yanked him half off the bed, and swore. This brought both eyes
open, glassy with whisky and sleep. He sat wobbling upon the edge of the
bed, staring stupidly.

"Can't you get anything through you?" his tormentor exclaimed. "You want