It seemed, somehow, as if she couldn't get that droll creature out of her mind. All the way down from Albuquerque she had been hearing his talk in her ears and laughing at the way he broadened his "a's" and purred and purled over his "r's." At times she had burst into inextinguishable laughter, insomuch that several of the male passengers had regarded her with curious glances and the train boy had tried to get gay with her; but Dixie Lee knew how to settle that kind of folks. A peanut butcher was a peanut butcher to her, and nothing more; and if he neglected to hawk his wares in order to drape himself over the back of her seat she could put him in his place. It was Mr. Bowles that she was thinking of--_Mr._ Bowles--and when she remembered the innocent look on his face as she filled him up with Indian atrocities and cattle-war stories she just simply had to laugh. But now to find him following her--to discover him on the same train when he was ticketed west out of Albuquerque--well, that was a different thing entirely! Dixie Lee retired to the sleeper to snatch a few hours of repose and when the dead-eyed porter set her down at Chula Vista she had entirely forgotten her knight. It was five o'clock on a cold March morning and the wind came in from across the prairie with a sweep that chilled the blood. It was so cold that the ticket-agent had ducked back into his inner sanctum before she could so much as hail him--and it was a quarter of a mile up to the hotel! Dixie May took a long look about her; she tried the waiting-room door; then, with a deep-drawn shudder, she turned to go it alone, when lo, a tall and masculine figure stepped out from behind the warehouse and she recognized Mr. Bowles! "Pardon me, madam," he said, doffing his comedian hat and addressing her as if she were a stranger; "I see you are all alone--can I be of any service to you?" It was dark, all right, but the idea of Mr. Bowles expecting to conceal his identity by mere starlight! She knew him, of course, the minute she saw his hat, but--well, what was the use of getting haughty about it? Why not do a little play-acting, too, until they got up to the hotel? "Why--why, yes," she faltered, simulating an appealing weakness. "It's very kind of you, I'm sure. I--I expected my father to meet me here, but----" "Ah, yes--very unfortunate," put in Bowles promptly. "Is there any hotel near? Just lead the way then, and I'll follow with your luggage. You might put on my overcoat if you're suffering from the cold. Rather not? Very well, then; let's hurry along to the hotel."