“Bob, take Mr. North’s bag round and then get Maid from the baggage car. Did Miss Margey come?”
“Yessir; she’s waitin’ roun’ back. Cardinal don’t like the cyars much, Mister Phil. You folks go ahead, sir; I’ll fetch these yere bags. Has you got trunks?”
“Yes, here’s my check. Give him yours, John, will you? You brought the wagon?”
“Yessir.”
“All right, Bob; hurry them along. Come on, John.”
They started around a corner of the station, but it was slow work, since Phillip was required to stop every step or two and shake hands. John was impressively introduced to the station agent, the foremost dry goods dealer, two farmers, and several others whose names and occupations escaped him. His size, topping Phillip by almost a head as he did, visibly aroused the interest of his new acquaintances, and a good many eyes were fixed upon him as he followed Phillip around the corner.
By the rear platform stood a two-seated buckboard of light wood, in the shafts of which a large red bay tossed and turned his head restively. On the front seat, very erect, with whip and lines held firmly in gloved hands, sat a girl in brown covert coat and soft felt hat. Even as John caught his first glimpse of her she turned and saw them. A flush mounted into her cheeks as her glance passed Phillip to the tall, broad-shouldered stranger.
“Hello, Phil, dear!” she called, and carefully changing whip and reins to her left hand, she stretched the other one forth over the wheel. “Steady, Cardinal; be still! Don’t you know your master, sir?”
“Howdy, sis?” Phillip took the hand and, leaning over, kissed her. “Margey, this is John North; my sister, John. Easy, Cardinal, you silly brute! Where’s Bob? Oh, Bob, hold his head until we get in.”
John took the gloved fingers in his own big palm and received from them a firm, very manlike pressure. Two dark and serious eyes looked into his and a soft voice said: