"Well, that's right fine," nodded Buck. "I'm bound for Bloomfield myself. Mrs. Badger and a friend are in the next car. Say, Winnie will be a heap surprised to see you boys. I'll lead her in. No, I have a better idea than that. We'll all hit the trail for the other car and descend on her in a bunch. There are plenty of empty seats in there, and we can have a right jolly old time."
In his breezy, commanding way he gathered them all up and led them into the next car, which had been attached to the train at the junction recently left.
Mrs. Badger—the Winnie Lee of the old days at Yale—was dozing in her chair when Buck came down upon her and awoke her by grasping her shoulder and giving her a shake.
"Waugh!" cried he. "Part the curtains of your peepers, Winnie, and observe this bunch of Injuns."
Mrs. Badger's companion was a slender young woman in a brown traveling suit. She was rather pretty in a supercilious way, but she showed questionable taste in a display of jewels while traveling.
"Oh, Buck, how you startled me, you great bear!" exclaimed Winnie. "What is it? Who is it?"
"Take a survey," directed the Kansan, with a sweep of his hand. "Here is our friend Gallup from Vermont, and that Frenchman, Mulloy, who was born somewhere in the north of Ireland."
"Oh, Ephraim Gallup! Oh, Barney Mulloy!" cried Winnie, in delight, as she sprang to her feet and grasped the hand of each.
"And you don't want to overlook Professor Gregory Carker, whose earthquake predictions must have been unheeded by the people of Frisco. Here he is, Winnie."
"Greg Carker!" burst from Winnie, as she shook hands with the young socialist. "Why, Greg, you're as handsome as a poet! You remind me of pictures of Lord Byron."