The Carlisle independent., 1913-03-27

pressed anu uedTlSlCh. Auc iOW, rolling hills, bare and desolate, stretched to the horizon, the grass al ready burned brown by the sun. The town itself consisted of but one short. crooked street. fanked by rough, ramshackle frame structures, two-thirds of these apparently sa- looms, with dirty, Tapping tents sand wiched between, and huge piles of tin cans and other rubbish stored away behind. The street was rutted and dusty, and the ceaseless wind swirled the dirt about in continuous, suffocating clouds. The hotel itself, little, squatty, two-storied affair. groaned to the blast, threatening to collapse. Nothing moved except a wagon down the long ribbon of road, and dog digging for bone behind a nearby tent It was so squalid and ugly she turned away In speechless disgust.
 The interior, however, offered even smaller comfort. A rude bedstead, one leg considerably short and propped up by a half brick, stood against the board wall a single wooden chair was opposite, and a fly-specked mirror hung over tin basin and pitcher. The floor sagged fearfully and the side walls lacked several inches of reach ing the ceiling. Even in the dim candle light of the evening before, the bed coverings had looked so forbid ding that Molly had compromised. ly- ing down, halfdressed on the outside; now, in the garish glare of returning day they appeared positively filthy. And this was the best to be had; she realized that, her courage failing at the thought of remaining alone amid such surroundings. AS she washed, using a towel of her own after a single glance at the hotel article, and did up her rebellious hair, she came to a prompt decision. She would go directly on-would take the first stage. Perhaps her father, or whom ever he sent. would be met with along the route The coaches had regular meeting stations, so there was small danger of their missing each other.
 The question of possible danger was dismissed almost without serious thought She had seen no papers since leaving St. Louis, and the news before that contained nothing more definite than rumors of uneasiness among the Plains Indians. Army off1- cers interviewed rather made light of the affair, as being merely the regular outbreak of young warriors, easily ha hod 0f with no one who treated the situation as really serious, and, if 1t was, then surely her father would send some message of restraint Satisfied upon this point, and fully determined upon departing at the earliest opportunity, she ventured down the narrow, creak- ing stairs in search of breakfast.
 The dining-room was discovered at the foot of the steps, square box of place. the two narrow windows look ing forth on the desolate prairie. There were three tables, but only one was in use, and, with no waiter to guide her, the girl advanced hesitating ly and took a seat opposite the two men already present. They glanced up, curiously interested, staring at her a moment, and then resumed their in- terrupted meal. Miss McDonald's crit ical eyes surveyed the unsavory-look- ing food, her lips slightly curved, and then glanced :nquiringly toward the men. The one directly opposite was large and burly, with iron-gray hair and beard, about sixty years of age, but with red cheeks and bright eyes, and face expressive of hearty good nature His clothing was roughly serviceable, but he looked clean and wholesome. The other was an army lieutenant, but Molly promptly quelched her first inclination to ad- dress him, as she noted his red, in- famed face and dissipated appearance. As she nibbled, half-heartedly, at the miserable food brought by slovenly waiter, the two men exchanged barely a dozen words, the lieutenant growing out monosyllabic answers. finally push ing back his chair, and striding out Again the girl glanced across at the older man, mastering courage to ad. dress him. At the same moment he looked up, with eyes full of good hu- nor and kindly interest.
 Looks rather tough, I reckon, miss," waving big hand over the table. But you'll have ter git used to 1t in this kentry."
 "Oh, do not believe I ever could" disconsolately. T can scarcely choke down mouthful."
 "So was noticin'; from the East, reckon?"
 "Yes; I--I came last night, and and really I am afraid I am actually homesick already. lit is even more-more primitive than I supposed Do-do you live here-at Ripley?"
 Good Lord, mol" heartily, though I reckon yer might not think my home wuz much better. I'm the post-tradef down at Fort Marcy, jist out O Santa Fe. I'll be blame glad ter git bac} thar too, I'm tellin' yer"
 "That-that Is what I wished to ash you about" she stammered. "The Santa Fe stage; when does 1t leave here? and-and where do I arrange