The cowboy’s eyebrows were raised slightly, and he whistled. “Who’d want to stop you?”
“I can’t tell you, but I have known that an attempt would be made to prevent me from going to Denver—and beyond. I noticed a rough-looking man next to me at the ticket window, an hour or so ago, when I bought my transportation. Then he was beside me again when I was checking my baggage. It must have been at the baggage window that he took the ticket from this bag.”
“Well, your train goes in five minutes,” answered Bertram. “There’s only one thing to do, and that’s to get another ticket pronto. Or, if there is any one watching you, maybe it’d be better if I bought the transportation. You wait here, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Before the girl could reply the young cowboy, who was used to acting on impulse, reentered the station and sauntered over to the ticket window. In a voice loud enough to be heard in the adjoining room he asked the ticket seller if the clock in the waiting room was right. Then, in a lower voice, he asked for a Denver ticket, accomplishing the exchange of money and transportation without calling any undue attention to the transaction. Then he sauntered to the door and stepped outside again.
“Come on,” he said, thrusting the ticket into the girl’s hand and keeping tight hold of the little fist. “There’s no use of your going through the ticket office. We’ll hurry around the end of the building, and you can dodge past all those trunks and get to the gate, just as easy as a colt slipping through a corral.”
“Where can I send the money for the ticket?” asked the girl, as they hurried through the darkness.
“Oh, just send it to Milton Bertram, care of William Bertram, of the Box Ranch, Bertramville,” replied the cowpuncher. “If you don’t write me a long letter, telling me how you enjoyed the trip, I’m going to be sure peevish.”
The girl laughed, and the note of her laughter was as clear as a meadow lark’s trill. Bertram stood in the darkness near the baggage room and watched her disappear through the gate. He saw the train depart and then turned regretfully away, his hand still thrilling to the touch of the girl’s hand, which had given his own a quick clasp of thankfulness.
CHAPTER II
WESTERN SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE.
On the way to Denver, Bertram began to find out something concerning the nature of the enterprise with which he had become identified.