The brakeman, perhaps alarmed at seeing his interesting passenger actually standing still, had joined 15 her at that moment. Priscilla pointed to a speck in the sagebrush—the vanishing cow boy.
“A real cow boy!” she shouted above the rumble of the wheels.
“Humph!” grunted her companion. “Didn’t you never see one before?”
“Never!” cried Priscilla fervently.
“It ain’t no great sight!” returned the sophisticated brakeman.
“Perhaps not to you,” Priscilla shouted in his ear, “but it would be if you had dreamed of seeing one for ten months and three-quarters the way I have.”
“Humph!” grunted the brakeman again. “You must be a tenderfoot.”
“I am,” cried Priscilla, “and I’m glad of it! You can only see bran-new things once. The second time you see them they aren’t new any longer, and can’t give you thrills like the first time.”
The brakeman grinned.
“There’s some yucca,” he shouted, pointing to a tall, straight plant with white, bell-shaped flowers growing by the track. 16