"Yes, it flewed away during the early morning," mutters Lot, which happens to be the exact truth, as, thinking the thing over, he had concluded it was best not to have the message on his person, and had torn it and tossed it out of the car window to the winds of Heaven, as the train had run down those alkaline, non-drinkable waters, cursed by early emigrants and pioneers under the name of Bitter Creek. But Erma Travenion hardly heeds him; her eyes are towards the West and she is murmuring, "Papa--perhaps this afternoon,--certainly to-night!--if not Ogden--surely Salt Lake!" and her face is so happy, and she goes to thanking Mr. Kruger so heartily for his kindness in sending the telegram, that he might have pangs of conscience as to what he intends for this Eastern butterfly, who comes with brightness on her wings into the West, had he not been used to dealing with all people sternly, even himself, when acting for the glories of Zion, and the smiting down of unbelievers. Then being joined by the Livingstons and Mr. Chauncey, who have been looking at the surprising scenery of this river, the first water they have as yet met which flows into the blue Pacific, she goes in to breakfast; Mr. Kruger, who seems to feel more at his ease as he nears his native heath, walking alongside of Miss Beauty. Pointing to the great elk heads with their branching antlers on the hotel walls, he remarks, "Thar's any quantity of them critters up thar in the Wind River Mountains, in which this 'ere stream heads." "You've been up there?" asks Ferdie, always excited when big game is mentioned. "Wall rather," returns Lot. "I was up all about thar and the Rattlesnake Hills and the Sweetwater Mountains and South Pass and Independence Springs in 1857, when Johnston and the U.S. troops were comin' through, and we rounded up and burnt--" But here he stops very suddenly. "What did you burn?" queries Mr. Chauncey, anxiously. "Oh, nothin' to speak of--brushwood and such truck," returns the uncommunicative Lot. "But here's the dining-table, Sonny!" Then the party being seated, notwithstanding Mr. Kruger's efforts at conversation and the delights of gastronomy, Miss Travenion's eyes will wander about, seeking an athletic figure that she sees not; for somehow she misses the man of yesterday, and despises herself for it. Towards the close of their meal there is a slight commotion outside, and the man taking the money at the door as the wayfarers pass out, deserts his post. Ferdie, who is so seated that he can look through the open windows, suddenly says, "It's some accident;" next cries, "It's Buck Powers!" and rushes from the room. A moment after Erma finds herself outside among an excited crowd, gazing at Captain Lawrence striding along the platform, bearing in his arms the form of Buck, the news-agent.