My Lady moved freely, being accustomed to the rarity; and she assured me that although Benton was seven thousand feet I would soon grow wonted to the atmosphere. The habitues of this country made light of the spot; the strangers on tour picked flowers and gathered rocks as mementoes of the "Crest of the Continent"--which was not a crest but rather a level plateau, wind-swept and chilly while sunny. Then from this Sherman Summit of the Black Hills of Wyoming the train swept down by its own momentum from gravity, for the farther side. The fellow Jim had not emerged, as yet, much to my relief. The scenery was increasing in grandeur and interest, and the play of my charming companion would have transformed the most prosaic of journeys into a trip through Paradise. I hardly noted the town named Laramie City, at the western base of the Black Hills; and was indeed annoyed by the vendors hawking what they termed "mountain gems" through the train. Laramie, according to My Lady, also once had been, as she styled it, "a live town," but had deceased in favor of Benton. From Laramie we whirled northwest, through a broad valley enlivened by countless antelope scouring over the grasses; thence we issued into a wilder, rougher country, skirting more mountains very gloomy in aspect. However, of the panorama outside I took but casual glances; the phenomenon of blue and gold so close at hand was all engrossing, and my heart beat high with youth and romance. Our passage was astonishingly short, but the sun was near to setting beyond distant peaks when by the landmarks that she knew we were approaching Benton at last. We crossed a river--the Platte, again, even away in here; briefly paused at a military post, and entered upon a stretch of sun-baked, reddish-white, dusty desert utterly devoid of vegetation. There was a significant bustle in the car, among the travel-worn occupants. The air was choking with the dust swirled through every crevice by the stir of the wheels--already mobile as it was from the efforts of the teams that we passed, of six and eight horses tugging heavy wagons. Plainly we were within striking distance of some focus of human energies. "Benton! Benton in five minutes. End o' track," the brakeman shouted. "My valise, please." I brought it. The conductor, who like the other officials knew My Lady, pushed through to us and laid hand upon it. "I'll see you out," he announced. "Come ahead." "Pardon. That shall be my privilege," I interposed. But she quickly denied. "No, please. The conductor is an old friend. I shall need no other help--I'm perfectly at home. You can look out for yourself." "But I shall see you again--and where? I don't know your address; fact is, I'm even ignorant of your name," I pleaded desperately. "How stupid of me." And she spoke fast and low, over her shoulder. "To-night, then, at the Big Tent. Remember." I pressed after. "The Big Tent! Shall I inquire there? And for whom?"