"How very strange; almost incredible, is it not? Have you ever
experienced such a sensation?"
"I have felt it, but never acutely until to-day; that is why I want to
get the truce extended. I dread the next two days."
She looked puzzled. "Mr. Glover, if you have jestingly beguiled me
into real sympathy I shall be angry in earnest."
"You are going to-morrow. How could I jest about it? When you go I
face the desert again. You have come like water into my life--are you
going out of it forever to-morrow? May I never hope to see you
again--or hear from you?" She rose in amazement; he was between her
and the door. "Surely, this is extraordinary, Mr. Glover."
"Only a moment. I shall have days enough of silence. I dread to shock
or anger you. But this is one reason why I tried to keep away from
you--just this--because I-- And you, in unthinking innocence, kept me
from my intent to escape this moment. Your displeasure was hard to
bear, but your kindness has undone me. Believe me or not I did fight,
a gentleman, even though I have fallen, a lover."
The displeasure of her eyes as she faced him was her only reply.
Indeed, he made hardly an effort to support her look and she swept past
him into the car.
The Brock train lay all next day in the Medicine Bend yard. A number
of the party, with horses and guides, rode to the Medicine Springs west
of the town. Glover, buried in drawings and blueprints, was in his
office at the Wickiup all day with Manager Bucks and President Brock.
Late in the afternoon the attention of Gertrude, reading alone in her
car, was attracted to a stout boy under an enormous hat clambering with
difficulty up the railing of the observation platform. In one arm he
struggled for a while with a large bundle wrapped in paper, then
dropping back he threw the package up over the rail, and starting
empty-handed gained the platform and picked up his parcel. He fished a
letter from his pistol pocket, stared fearlessly in at Gertrude Brock
and knocked on the glass panel between them.
"Laundry parcels are to be delivered to the porter in the forward car,"
said Gertrude, opening the door slightly.
As she spoke the boy's hat blew off and sailed down the platform, but
he maintained some dignity. "I don't carry laundry. I carry
telegrams. The front door was locked. I seen you sitting in there all
alone, and I've got a note and had orders to give it to you personally,
and this package personally, and not to nobody else, so I climbed over."
"Stop a moment," commanded Gertrude, for the heavy messenger was
starting for the railing before she quite comprehended. "Wait until I
see what you have here." The boy, with his hands on the railing, was
letting himself down.