Mr. Hemmingway felt that there WAS an answer to this, but, being wise, also felt that it would be unavailing. He smiled politely and said nothing, at which the first speaker turned to him:—
“Thar ain't anything to see to-day, but to-morrow, ez things go, the water oughter be droppin'. Mebbe you'd like to wash up now and clean yourself,” he added, with a glance at Hemmingway's small portmanteau. “Ez we thought you'd likely be crowded here, we've rigged up a corner for you at Stanton's shanty with the women.”
The young man's cheek flushed slightly at some possible irony in this, and he protested with considerable stress that he was quite ready “to rough it” where he was.
“I reckon it's already fixed,” returned the man decisively, “so you'd better come and I'll show you the way.”
“One moment,” said Hemmingway, with a smile; “my credentials are addressed to the manager of the Boone Ditch Company at 'Jules'.' Perhaps I ought to see him first.”
“All right; he's Stanton.”
“And”—hesitated the secretary, “YOU, who appear to understand the locality so well,—I trust I may have the pleasure”—
“Oh, I'm Jules.”
The secretary was a little startled and amused. So “Jules” was a person, and not a place!
“Then you're a pioneer?” asked Hemmingway, a little less dictatorially, as they passed out under the dripping trees.