Say! that knocked all the sarcastic laughin' outen him. A' awful anxious look come into his face. "Why--why, Cupid," he begun. "You don't reckon she'd go do that!" Just then, _Clickety_--_clickety_--_clickety_--_click_ a hoss was comin' along the road. We both got to a winda. It was that bald-faced bronc of Macie's again, haid down and tail out. But the bridle-reins was caught 'round the pommel t' keep 'em from gittin' under foot, and the little gal's saddle--was empty! CHAPTER SIX WHAT A LUNGEE DONE "Sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides On its fair, windin' way to the sea--" It was Macie Sewell singin'. Ole Number 201 'd just pulled outen Briggs City, haided southwest with her freight of tenderfeet, and with Ingineer Dave Reynolds stickin' in his spurs to make up lost time. The passengers 'd had twenty-five minutes fer a good grubbin'-up at the eatin'-house, and now the little gal was help-in' the balance of the Harvey bunch to clear off the lunch-counter. Whilst she worked, she was chirpin' away like she'd plumb bust her throat. I was outside, settin' on a truck with Up-State. He was watchin' acrosst the rails, straight afore him, and listenin', and I could see he was swallerin' some, and his eyes looked kinda like he'd been ridin' agin the wind. When I shifted my _po_sition, he turned the other way quick, and coughed--that pore little gone-in cough of hisn. Wal, I felt pretty bad myself; and I seen somethin' turrible was wrong with Up-State--I couldn't just make out what. Pretty soon, I put my hand on his arm, and I says, "I don't want t' worm anythin' outen you, ole man; I just want t' say I'm you' friend." "Cupid," he whispers back, "it's The Mohawk Vale." (He allus whispered, y' savvy; couldn't talk out loud no more, bein' so turrible shy on lung.) "Is that a bony fido place?" I ast, "'r just made up a-purpose fer the song?" "It's _my_ country," he whispers, slow and husky, and begun gazin' acrosst to the mesquite again. "And, Cupid, it's a _beau_tiful country!" "I reckon," I says. "It's likely got Oklahomaw skinned t' death." Up-State, he didn't answer that--too _po_lite. Aw, he was a gent, too, same as the parson. Minute 'r so, Macie struck up again-- "And dearer by far than all charms on earth byside, Is that bright, rollin' river to me." Up-State lent over, elbows on his knees, face in his hands, and begun tremblin'--Why, y' know, even a _hoss_ 'll git homesick. Now, I brung a flea-bitten mare from down on the lower Cimarron oncet, and blamed if that little son-of-a-gun didn't hoof it all the way back, straighter 'n a string! Yas, ma'am. And so, a-course, it's natu'al fer a _man_. Wal, I ketched on to how things was with Up-State, and I moseyed. I was at the deepot pretty frequent them days--waitin'. Macie hadn't talked to me none yet, and mebbe she wouldn't. But I was on hand in case the notion 'd strike her.