“I guess you’ll have to hire a team at the livery-stable; take you about three days to get through.”
The girl looked dismayed.
“Then can you give me a room to-night?” she asked.
“Sorry,” said the man, “we’re full up with the railroad boys; the waitresses have to camp in the kitchen. Don’t know if anybody can take you in; the track bosses have got all the rooms in town.”
He disappeared and the girl sat down, looking very forlorn and disconsolate. Her voice was English and she had obviously traveled a long distance in an open car on the supply train. Kermode felt sorry for her. He took off his hat as he approached.
“If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’ll see if I can find you quarters,” he said.
She glanced at him suspiciously, with a heightened color, which he thought a favorable sign, but her eyes grew more confident and when she agreed he withdrew. As a man of experience who had been a favorite with women, he was, however, guilty of an error of judgment during his search. A smart young woman with whom he was on friendly terms managed a cigar store, and it is possible that she would have taken some trouble to oblige him; but his request that she should offer shelter to another girl whose acquaintance he seemed to have made in a most casual manner was received with marked coldness. Kermode, indeed, felt sorry he had suggested it when he left the store and set out for a shack belonging to the widow of a man killed on the line. She was elderly and grim, a strict Methodist from the east, who earned a pittance by mending the workmen’s clothes. After catechizing Kermode severely, she gave a very qualified assent; and returning to the hotel, he found the girl anxiously waiting for him. She looked relieved when he reported his success.
“I had better go at once,” she said. “You think Mrs. Jasper will take me in?”
Kermode picked up the bag.
“To tell the truth, she only promised to have a look at you.” Then he smiled reassuringly. “I’ve no doubt there’ll be no difficulty when she has done so.”