The next few days were uneventful. Mr. Bates took a train for Cheyenne, leaving Dan to handle the sign orders alone. We had accumulated an abundant supply of farm produce of all kinds, in fact, we were overstocked in some lines, so that Mr. Adams suggested a change of programme. Instead of riding behind the mule team, I now go with the men in the buckboard, and while Mr. Adams solicits sign orders, and Dan puts them up, I canvass the towns where my goods sell for cash.
The drives seem but half as long as before, thanks to the superior speed of the horses and the pleasant banter of Mr. Adams, who is a most interesting conversationalist.
The man is a wonderful study. He often starts to speak of some personal experience and breaks off in the middle of the first sentence. He never has given me the least hint of his earlier life, but I feel sure that he is a college man. There must be some mystery in his life. I spoke of my beliefs to Dan.
He replied, “The only mystery that I see is that he is falling in love with you, and that’s not much of a mystery either. Honey-drips sees how the wind blows and loves you like a rattlesnake.”
I indignantly denied the allegation, for Mr. Adams’ conduct had been exemplary. But Dan refused to retract his unjust words, so I determined to keep my opinions to myself.
TWELVE
July 12th, 1908,
Sydney, Nebraska.
TWELVE
July 12, 1908. Sydney, Nebraska.