“It is about what I had a right to expect,” he told himself when he was once more back in the solitude of the smoke den. “She was afraid to trust herself in the same dining room with me. Why the devil couldn’t I have held my cursed temper just ten seconds longer? Here I’ve had to sit all day and eat my heart out, when I might have been getting miles away from the old life in her company. What a fool a man can make of himself when he tries!” “That is a fact,” said a voice from the opposite seat; and Brant, who had been staring gloomily out of the window at the wall of blackness slipping past the train, and so was unaware that he was not alone, was unreasonable enough to be angry. “What’s that you say?” he began wrathfully, turning upon his commentator; but the pleasant face of the young man in the opposite seat was of the kind which disarms wrath. “It’s on me,” he laughed. “I beg your pardon. I spoke without thinking, but what you said about the fool-making faculty calls for general ratification. We all have it.” Brant nodded, and the newcomer relighted his cigar, which had gone out in the explanation. “Going in to Denver?” he asked, willing to let interest atone for impudence. “Yes.” “Wish I were. I’ve been out a week now, and I’m beginning to long for the fleshpots.” “You have my sympathy if you have to stop overnight anywhere between this and Denver,” said Brant, who knew the country. “Luckily, I don’t have to. I am merely riding down to the meeting point with Number Three to kill time. I have to go back to Voltamo to-night.” Brant laughed. “Do you find it cheaper to ride than to wait?” “It is quite as cheap in my case; the railway company has to foot the bills, anyway.” “Oh--you are in the service, are you?” “Yes.” “Engineer corps?” “No; operating department. I am chief clerk in the superintendent’s office.” They smoked companionably for a while, and then Brant said: “Perhaps you can tell me some of the things I want to find out. Who is your chief engineer now?” “Colonel Bowran.” “Good fellow?” “Out of sight; gentleman of the old school, you know; West Point, regular army, and all that. They say he won’t hire a chainman unless he is a college graduate.” “Is his office in Denver?” “Yes; right next door to ours.” “All of which is comforting,” said Brant. “I hope you will have me for a neighbour. I am going to try for a billet on the C. E. & W.” “Good!” exclaimed the chief clerk, rising at the sound of the locomotive whistle. “My name’s Antrim, and you will find me in Superintendent Craig’s office. Latchstring hangs on the outer wall.” “And my name is Brant. Do you quit us here?” “Got to do it--wish I hadn’t, now. Glad to have met you, I’m sure. Don’t forget to hunt me up. Good night.”