"Won't you make one of us, Mr. Misanthrope?"
I called myself all sorts of a fool, but out I went as eagerly as if there had been some hope. Miss Cullen began to tease me over my sudden access of energy, declaring that she was sure it was a pose for their benefit, or else due to a guilty conscience over having slept so late.
"I hoped you would ride with us, though perhaps it wouldn't have paid you. Apparently there is nothing to see in Ash Fork."
"There is something that may interest you all," I suggested, pointing to a special that had been dropped off No. 2 that morning.
"What is it?" asked Madge.
"It's a G.S. special," I said, "and Mr. Camp and Mr. Baldwin and two
G.S. officials came in on it."
"What do you think he'd give for those letters?" laughed Fred.
"If they were worth so much to you, I suppose they can't be worth any less to the G.S.," I replied.
"Fortunately, there is no way that he can learn where they are," said
Mr. Cullen.
"Don't let's stand still," cried Miss Cullen. "Mr. Gordon, I'll run you a race to the end of the platform." She said this only after getting a big lead, and she got there about eight inches ahead of me, which pleased her mightily. "It takes men so long to get started," was the way she explained her victory. Then she walked me beyond the end of the boarding to explain the working of a switch to her. That it was only a pretext she proved to me the moment I had relocked the bar, by saying—