"Mercy! Does he have to grin as if he were an old friend when he announces the fact?" complained Barbara, daintily picking her way between boxes and bags of freight. "He's a genuine western type," laughed Eleanor, following her sister into the coach. "Goodness gracious! Are we expected to sit on these old dusty plush seats?" cried Barbara, whipping the upholstery with her tiny handkerchief before she seated herself. Again Eleanor laughed but she was not as merry as when she jumped from the Pullman that morning. Quite different were the sensations of the two city girls, to those of Anne Stewart, as they passed over the same route and saw the same country. Perhaps it was the difference in training more than the ideals of the three girls. "Nolla, can all the houses be as horrid as those we have passed by?" asked Barbara, nodding at a group of log-houses. "I don't know, but they certainly are smaller than the homes in Chicago, aren't they?" rejoined Eleanor, gazing in open curiosity at the scenery and buildings so different from that of the city. "Smaller! Why, they are simply _poverty_-stricken in looks!" exclaimed Barbara in disgust. The nearer the train came to Oak Creek, the smaller and rougher the houses seemed, until the guard called out: "Oak Crick! Here's your station!" The girls gazed at each other in consternation, for the place was little more than a rough mining settlement, or ranch-town. The brakeman caught up the leather bags and jumped from the slowing train. He planked them down regardless of contents, and ran off to the station. It was an old discarded box-car shoved on a siding to do duty as ticket-office and freight station. The girls hurried out to the car platform and Barbara asked: "Nolla, why don't you call the porter?" "They never had one on this line!" Then stepping down side-ways from the high narrow steps of the train, Eleanor cried: "Gracious! Do catch me if I fall!" Barbara stared about as a frozen horror slowly crept into her soul and was expressed in her eyes. "Was _this_ the lovely mountain resort for which she had planned such conquests?" Eleanor spied the precious bags too close to the tracks to insure their safety, so she rushed over to save them from disaster--for who could tell whether that shaky old train would hold together much longer! But the Local looked worse than it really was. It was as reliable a set of old cars as could be found, even if the paint and polish had vanished with age. Just as the bags were recovered, the whistle tooted, the wheels grated in turning, and the train that on its return trip to Denver, might have carried these girls back to _their_ kind of civilization, slowly pulled out of sight. Eleanor struggled with the two well-filled bags of toilet accessories, and deposited them before her sister. "Bet you everything is broken, and our house-dresses ruined with perfume!"