As seemed to me, the ticket agent would have detained her, in defiance of the waiting line; but she finished her business shortly, with shorter replies to his idle remarks; and I turned away under pretense of examining some placards upon the wall advertising "Platte Valley lands" for sale. I had curiosity to see which way she wended. Then as she tripped for the door, casting eyes never right nor left, and still fumbling at her reticule, a coin slipped from her fingers and rolled, by good fortune, across the floor. I was after it instantly; caught it, and with best bow presented it. "Permit me, madam." She took it. "Thank you, sir." For a moment she paused to restore it to its company; and I grasped the occasion. "I beg your pardon. You are going to Benton, of Wyoming Territory?" Her eyes met mine so completely as well-nigh to daze me with their glory. There was a quizzical uplift in her frank, arch smile. "I am, sir. To Benton City, of Wyoming Territory." "You are acquainted there?" I ventured. "Yes, sir. I am acquainted there. And you are from Benton?" "Oh, no," I assured. "I am from New York State." As if anybody might not have known. "But I have just purchased my ticket to Benton, and----" I stammered, "I have made bold to wonder if you would not have the goodness to tell me something of the place--as to accommodations, and all that. You don't by any chance happen to live there, do you?" "And why not, sir, may I ask?" she challenged. I floundered before her query direct, and her bewildering eyes and lips--all tantalizing. "I didn't know--I had no idea--Wyoming Territory has been mentioned in the newspapers as largely Indian country----" "At Benton we are only six days behind New York fashions," she smiled. "You have not been out over the railroad, then, I suspect. Not to North Platte? Nor to Cheyenne?" "I have never been west of Cincinnati before." "You have surely been reading of the railroad? The Pacific Railway between the East and California?" "Yes, indeed. In fact, a friend of mine, named Stephen Clark, nephew of the Honorable Thurlow Weed formerly of Albany, was killed a year ago by your Indians while surveying west of the Black Hills. And of course there have been accounts in the New York papers." "You are not on survey service? Or possibly, yes?" "No, madam." "A pleasure trip to end of track?" She evidently was curious, but I was getting accustomed to questions into private matters. That was the universal license, out here. "The pleasure of finding health," I laughed. "I have been advised to seek a location high and dry." "Oh!" She dimpled adorably. "I congratulate you on your choice. You will make no mistake, then, in trying Benton. I can promise you that it is high and reasonably dry. And as for accommodations--so far as I have ever heard anybody is accommodated there with whatever he may wish." She darted a glance at me; stepped aside as if to leave. "I am to understand that it is a city?" I pleaded.