Tom Gardner regarded his morning's work complacently. With the aid of his ax he had transformed the tree-stump that had lain behind the station for years into a hitching-post, which he was going to set up for the farmers, so that they could tie their horses to it when they came to the station. Tom had had enough of fastening the iron ring into the outer wall of his shanty, for it had been torn out four times by the shying of the wild horses harnessed to the vehicles sent from Swallowtown to meet passengers. And the day before yesterday Bob Cratchit's horses had added insult to injury by running off with a board out of the back wall. Tom was sick and tired of it; the day before he had temporarily stopped up the hole with a tin advertisement, which notified the inhabitants of Swallowtown who wanted to take the train that Millner's pills were the best remedy for indigestion. Tom decided to set up his post at midday. He stopped work for the present in order to be ready for station-duty when the express from Pendleton passed through in half an hour. From force of habit and half unconsciously, he glanced along the yellow road running south, wondering whether in spite of its being Sunday there might not be some traveler from Swallowtown coming to catch the local train which stopped at the station an hour later. He shaded his eyes with his right hand and after a careful search did discover a cart with two persons in it approaching slowly over the waving expanse of the flower-bedecked prairie. Tom muttered something to himself and traipsed through the station house, being joined as usual by his dog, who had been sleeping outside in the sun. Then he walked a little way along the tracks and finally turned back to his dwelling, the trampled-down flowers and grass before the entrance being the only signs that the foot of man ever disturbed its solitary peace. The dog now seemed suddenly to become aware of the rapidly approaching cart and barked in that direction. Tom sent him into the house and shut the door behind him, whereupon the dog grew frantic. The cart approached almost noiselessly over the flowery carpet, but soon the creaking and squeaking of the leather harness and the snorting of the horses became clearly audible. "Halloo, Tom!" called out one of the men. "Halloo, Winston!" was the answer; "where are you off to?" "Going over to Pendleton." "You're early; the express hasn't passed yet," answered Tom. Winston jumped down from the cart, swung a sack over his shoulder, and stepped toward the shanty. "Who's that with you?" asked Tom, pointing with his thumb over his right shoulder. "Nelly's brother-in-law, Bill Parker," said the other shortly. Nelly's brother-in-law was in the act of turning the cart round to drive back to Swallowtown when Tom, making a megaphone of his hands, shouted across: "Won't the gentleman do me the honor of having a drink on me?"