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As she heard him clatter down the stairs, Miss Stella Donovan of the New York Star knew that her visit would not be in vain. The miner waited, leaning against the desk. His eyes had followed the slender figure moving after the rotund Timmons up the uncarpeted stairs until it had vanished amid the shadows of the second story.
Not even the half-drunken Timmons could be allowed to suspect the real depth of his interest in this affair. Fortunately, it was so late in the morning he was left undisturbed at a side table, screened from the open door leading into the office. Sadie, the waitress, took his order and immediately disappeared, leaving him to his own thoughts.
Help in this country is extremely hard to get; so when I received a letter from one Aurelia Timmons, saying she wanted a job, three dollars a week and not to be called "Relie," my joy could hardly be described. I could hardly wait until morning to start for Bridger Bench, where Aurelia held forth. I was up before the lark next morning.
Leffingwell?" he asked. "No, I don't want no Timmons. I want Mr. Leffingwell." Jim smiled wickedly into the receiver. "Well, say, young feller, I'm surprised you don't know me. This is J. P. Morgan speaking'. I want sell Huh? Oh, y-y-yes, Sir. Why, yes, sir, Mr. Leffingwell. I thought I was talking to some fresh guy on the phone. Excuse me, Sir! Yes, sir! I have news for you.
He paid the bill jokingly and in the best of humour, careful to tell the proprietor that he was leaving for his mine and might not return for several days. He possessed confidence that Timmons would make no secret of this in Haskell after his departure. He was glad to notice that Beaton observed him as he passed the Good Luck Saloon and went tramping down the dusty road.
Women are purer by nature than men, and they will purify politics. That's all I'm going to say to-night. Now, I'm not managing this debate, but it is getting late and I want everybody that feels like it to vote on my side. Stand up now. All in favor, rise to your feet. That's right, Mrs. Timmons I knew you would wake up. Now, everybody! That's the way!"
Determined to make the effort, he muttered a swift word of thanks to Sadie and left the room. Enright was not in the office, but had evidently merely passed through and gone out. Timmons was sound asleep in a chair by the window, oblivious to any ordinary noise.
"Yare," said the tall youth vaguely. Along the rows of cots, when Fuselli got back to the barracks, men were talking excitedly. "There's hell to pay, somebody's broke out of the jug." "How?" "Damned if I know." "Sergeant Timmons said he made a rope of his blankets." "No, the feller on guard helped him to get away." "Like hell he did. It was like this.
He was blue about the lips his eyes sunk in shadowy pits and he was shivering. "'Timmons, says he to me," he chattered, "'I'm going home. I done wrong, says he. 'They'll kill me for this." "An' when he got the dogs in the traces," Jonas proceeded, "I seed he wasn't ready for no long journey. 'Good Lord, Jagger, says I, 'you isn't got no grub for the dogs! 'Dogs! says he.
He released her arm, and suddenly gripped the shoulder of a man passing. He was the town marshal. "Say, Dan, I reckon this is your busy night, but I wish you'd help me run this lady through as far as Timmons; this bunch of long-horns appear to be milling, and we're plum stalled." The man turned and stared at them.
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