The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1905-11-02

small that it might have been Loaf
blowing along in the wind, turn info q
horseman.
In all that great wide world the
only hint Of life was the galloping horse
man, the only sound the rhythmical
ring of the nearing hoofs. The rider
now close enough for Miss Carmichael
to distinguish the features, was thor
ough dandy of the saddle. No slouch-
ing garb Of exigence and comfort This.
but pretty display of doeskin gai-
ter, Vanished boot and smart riding
breeches. The lad-he could not have
been, Miss Carmichael thought, more
than twenty-was tanned a splendid
color not unlike the bloomy shading on
nasturtium. And when the doughty
horseman made out the girl standing
in the doorway he smiled with lack
OF formality not suggested by the town
cut of his trappings. Throwing the
relns over the neck of the horse with
the real western fling, he slid from the
saddle in a trice, and-Mary Carmi-
chael experienced something of the gasp.
ing horror of a shocked old lady as she
made out two splendid braids of thick,
black hair. Her doughty cavalier was
no cavalier at all, but surprisingly
handsome young woman.
Miss Carmichael gasped little even
as she extended her hand, for the mas
querader had pulled off her gauntlet
and held out hers as if she was con-
ferring the freedom Of the wilderness.
1t was impossible for homesick girl
not to respond to such heartiness.
though it was with difficulty at first
that Mary kept her eyes on the girls
face. Curiosity, agreeably piqued,
urged her to take another glimpse of
the riding clothes that this young wonl-
an wore with such supreme unconcern.
"Are you surprised that I did not
wait for an introduction? the girl in
the riding clothes asked. "But you
don't know how good it is to see
girl. I'm so tired of spurs and SOM
breros and cattle and dust and dis
lance, and there's nothing else here"
where I come from it's just the
other way-too many petticoats and
hatpins.''
The horseman, who was no horse
man, dropped Miss Carmichaers hand
and went into the house. Mary won
dered if she ought to have been more
cordial.
From the back door came Leander,
with dishcloths, which he began to
hang on the line in a dumb, driven
sort Of way.
"Who is she?' asked Mary.
"Her?'' he Intercepted, jerking his
head in the direction of the house. 'The
postmistress, Judith Rodney. Yes,
that's her name" He dropped his
voice in the manner of one imparting
momentous things. .:"She never wears
a skirt ridin', any more than a man.
"She keeps the postoffice here, since
Mrs. OAK lost the job, and boards with
US. Pr'aps it's because she is my
wlfe's successor in Office, or p'r'aps
it's jest the natural grudge that VIM
men seem to harbor agin each other,
none.' -.. :.~.. .~
Leander, having disposed of his last
dish towel, squinted at it through his
half closed eyes, like an artist "sight-
ing'' a landscape. ~ =.
"Sh-sh-h!" he said, creeping toward
Mary, his dull face TRANSPORTED with
the consciousness that he had news to
tell. 'Sh-sh! Her brothers a rustler.
If 'twan't for her. Leander went
through the grewsome pantomime Of
tying an imaginary rope round his neck
and throwing it over the limb of an