The next day we rides to Kelly’s Fork, and takes a saddled horse for our new boss to ride back. We flagged the train and I’m betting that half of the passengers thought it was a hold-up. The conductor howls like blazes when he finds why we stopped him, but Hashknife says:
“Shucks, you ought to be glad we only want a passenger. We’ll go with yuh.”
The conductor cusses a little more, but swings on to the coach with us and we all pilgrims down the aisle, the conductor calling:
“M. J. Haley! M. J. Haley! M. J. Haley! Is M. J. Haley on board?”
We went through two cars before we gets a response. A tired-looking girl takes the conductor by the sleeve and stops him. He says to her:
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I haven’t time to talk to you now. M. J. Haley! M. J. Haley! Is M. J. Haley on board?”
“I am M. J. Haley,” says the lady. “Is—is somebody looking for me?”
“M. J. Haley?” grunts Windy. “Nun-not M. J. Huh—Haley of the Circle Dot?”
“Yes,” says she, “from San Francisco.”
“Well, get off!” snaps the conductor. “I can’t hold this train all day.”