I 'm the post-trader down at Fort Marcy, jist out o' Santa Fe.

I 'll be blame glad ter git back thar too, I 'm a tellin' yer." "That--that is what I wished to ask you about," she stammered.

"The Santa Fe stage; when does it leave here?
and--and where do I arrange for passage ?" He dropped knife and fork, staring at her across the table.
"Good Lord, miss," he exclaimed swiftly.

"Do yer mean to say ye 're goin' to make that trip alone ?" "Oh, not to Santa Fe; only as far as the stage station at the Arkansas crossing," she exclaimed hastily.

"I am going to join my father; he--he commands a post on the Cimarron--Major McDonald." "Well, I 'll be damned," said the man slowly, so surprised that he forgot himself.