"Oh, I can read either hand," laughed Louise, recovering and putting Glover's hand aside. "Let me have your left, Mr. Blood--your turn presently, Mr. Glover. Be seated. Now this is the sort of hand I like," she declared, leaning forward as she looked into the left--"full of romance, Mr. Blood. Here is an affair of the heart the very first thing. Now don't laugh, this is serious." She studied the palm a moment and glanced mischievously around her. "If I were to disclose all the delicate romances I find here," she declared with an air of mystery, "they would laugh at both of us. I'm not going to give them a chance. I give private readings, too, Mr. Blood, and you shall have a private reading at the other end or the car after a while. Now is there another 'party'? Oh, to be sure; come, Mr. Glover, are all railroad men romantic? This is growing interesting--let me see your palm. Oh!" "Now what have I done?" asked Glover as Louise, studying his palm, started. "I have changed my name--I admit that; but I have always denied killing anyone in the States. Are you going to tell the real facts? Won't someone lend _me_ a hand for a few minutes? Or may I withdraw this entry before exposure?" "Mr. Glover! of all the hands! I'm not surprised you were chosen to show the sights. There's something happening in your hand every few minutes. Adventures, heart affairs, fortunes, perils--such a life-line, Mr. Glover. On my word there you are hanging by a hair--a hair--on the verge of eternity----" Glover laughed softly. "Oh, come, Louise," protested Mrs. Whitney. "Touch on lighter lines, please." "Lighter lines! Why, Mr. Glover's heart-line is a perfect canyon." The laughter did not daunt her. "A perfect canyon. I've read about hands like this, but I never saw one. No more to-night, Mr. Glover, you are too exciting." "But about hanging on the verge--has it anything to do with a lynching, do you think, Miss Donner?" asked Glover. "The hair rope might be a lariat----" "Mr. Glover!"--the train conductor opened the car door. "Is Mr. Glover in this car?" "Yes." "A message." "May I be excused for a moment?" said Glover, rising. "What did I tell you?" exclaimed Louise, "a telegram! Something has happened already." CHAPTER VI THE CAT AND THE RAT At five o'clock that evening, snow was falling at Medicine Bend, but Callahan, as he studied the weather bulletins, found consolation in the fact that it was not raining, and resting his heels on a table littered with train-sheets he forced the draft on a shabby brier and meditated. There were times when snow had been received with strong words at the Wickiup: but when summer fairly opened Callahan preferred snow to rain as strongly as he preferred genuine Lone Jack to the spurious compounds that flooded the Western market.