Desert Dust

of the Blue Eyes; hastening, like the rest, but not unattended—for a brakeman bore her valise and the conductor her parasol. The scurrying crowd gallantly parted before her. It as promptly closed upon her wake; try as I might I was utterly unable to keep in her course. Obviously, the train was to be well occupied. Carried on willy-nilly I mounted the first steps at hand; elbowed on down the aisle until I managed to squirm aside into a vacant seat. The remaining half was at once effectually filled by a large, stout, red-faced woman who formed the base of a pyramid of boxes and parcels. My neighbor, who blocked all egress, was going to North Platte, three hundred miles westward, I speedily found out. And she almost as speedily learned that I was going to Benton. She stared, round-eyed. “I reckon you’re a gambler, young man,” she accused. “No, madam. Do I look like a gambler?” “You can’t tell by looks, young man,” she asserted, 18 still suspicious, “Maybe you’re on spec’, then, in some other way.” “I am seeking health in the West, is all, where the climate is high and dry.” “My Gawd!” she blurted. “High and dry! You’re goin’ to the right place. For all I hear tell, Benton is high enough and dry enough. Are your eye-teeth peeled, young man?” “My eye-teeth?” I repeated. “I hope so, madam. Are eye-teeth necessary in Benton?” “Peeled, and with hair on ’em, young man,” she assured. “I guess you’re a pilgrim, ain’t you? I see a leetle green in your eye. No, you ain’t a tin-horn. You’re some mother’s boy, jest gettin’ away from the trough. My sakes! Sick, too, eh? Weak lungs, ain’t it? Now you tell me: Why you goin’ to Benton?” There was an inviting kindness in her query. Plainly she had a good heart, large in proportion with her other bulk. “It’s the farthest point west that I can reach by railroad, and everybody I have talked with has recommended it as high and dry.” “So it is,” she nodded; and chuckled fatly. “But laws sakes, you don’t need to go that fur. You can as well stop off at North Platte, or Sidney or Cheyenne. They’ll sculp you sure at Benton, unless you watch out mighty sharp.” “How so, may I ask?”