"Why don't you come with me now?"
"I'll be there," he replied. "You buy the tickets and check the baggage." And with that he turned his back.
"Good-by," I called to the young lady. But she was looking up at him and didn't seem to hear me.
My companion arrived at the station in an old hack, with horses at the gallop. He was barely in time.
When we were settled in the car, bowling along over the prairies toward the little junction town of Artesia, I turned to him and inquired how his work had gone that morning. But at that moment he caught sight, through the car window, of some negroes sitting at a cabin door, and exclaimed over their picturesqueness.
I agreed. Then, as the train left them behind, I repeated my question: "How did your work go?"
"This is very fertile-looking country," said he.
This time I did not reply, but asked:
"Did you finish both sketches?"