I passed a right peaceful afternoon, a-settin' at the bottom of a statue of a man ridin' a big bronc, with a tall lady runnin' ahaid and wavin' a feather. It was at the beginnin' of the park, and I expected t' see Mace come lopin' by any minute. Sev'ral gals _did_ show up, and one 'r two of 'em rid off on bob-tailed hosses, follered by gezabas in white pants and doctor's hats. Heerd afterwards they was grooms, and bein' the gals' broncs was bob-tailed, they had to go 'long to keep off the flies. But Mace, she didn't show up. Next day, I waited same way. Day after, ditto. Seemed t' me ev'ry blamed man, woman and child in the hull city passed me but her. And I didn't know a _one_ of 'em. A Chink come by oncet, and when I seen his pig-tail swingin', I felt like I wanted to shake his fist. About that time I begun to git worried, too. "If she ain't ridin'," I says to myself, "how 'm I ever goin' to locate her?" Another day, when I was settin' amongst the kids, watchin', I seen a feller steerin' my way. "What's this?" I says, 'cause he didn't have the spurs of a decent man. Wal, when he came clost, he begun to smile kinda sloppy, like he'd just had two 'r three. "Why, hello, ole boy," he says, puttin' out a bread-hooker; "I met you out West, didn't I? How are y'?" I had the sittywaytion in both gauntlets. "Why, yas," I answers, "and I'm tickled to sight a familiar face. Fer by jingo! I'm busted. Can you loan me a dollar?" He got kinda sick 'round the gills. "Wal, the fact is," he says, swallerin' two 'r three times, "I'm clean broke myself." Just then a gal with a pink cinch comes walkin' along. She was one of them Butte-belle lookin' ladies, with blazin' cheeks, and hair that's a cross 'twixt _mo_lasses candy and the pelt of a kit-fox. She was leadin' a dog that looked plumb ashamed of hisself. "Pretty gal," says the mealy-mouthed gent, grinnin' some more. "And I know her. Like t' be interdooced?" "Don't bother," I says. (Her hay was a little too weathered fer _me_.) "Nice red cheeks," he says, rubbin' his paws t'gether. "Ya-a-as," I says, "_mighty nice_. But you oughta see the squaws out in Oklahomaw. They varies it with yalla and black." He give me a kinda keen look. Then he moseyed. It wasn't more 'n a' hour afterwards when somebody passed that I knowed--in one of them dinky, little buggies that ain't got no cover. Who d' you think it was?--that Doctor Bugs! I was at his hoss's haid 'fore ever he seen me. "Hole up, Simpson," I says, "I want t' talk to you." "Why, Alec Lloyd!" he says. "That's my name." "How 'd _you_ git here?" He stuck out one of them soft paws of hisn. "Wal, I got turned this way, and then I just follered my nose." (I didn't take his hand. I'd as soon 'a' touched a snake.) "Wal, I'm glad t' see you." (That was a whopper.) "How's ev'rybody in Briggs?" "Never you mind about Briggs. I want t' ast _you_ somethin': Where's Macie Sewell?" "I don't know."