“I deserve to be shot for sleeping at all,” I declared, in self reproach. “I did not mean to. I lay down for a moment and--well, I suppose I was rather tired.” “I know. Last night's experience was enough to tire anyone.” “Nonsense! It was no worse for me than for you,” I said. “Yes, it was. You had the care and the responsibility. I, you see, knew that I was well guarded. Besides, I slept for hours this morning. Come, both of you. Breakfast is ready.” Phineas was already seated at the table, glancing over his shoulder at the butler, whose look of dignified disgust at being obliged to wait upon a countryman in his shirt sleeves would have been funny, if I had been in a mood for fun. I don't know which was the more uncomfortable, Cahoon or the butler. “Won't you join us, Miss Colton?” I asked. “Why--why, yes, perhaps I will, if you don't mind. I am not hungry but I will take a cup of coffee, Johnson.” Phineas did almost all the talking while he remained with us, which was not long. He swallowed his breakfast in a tremendous hurry, a proceeding which still further discomposed the stately Johnson, and then rose and put on his coat. “I hate to leave you short handed and on a lee shore, Miss,” he explained, apologetically; “but I know you understand how 'tis with me. My job's all I've got and I'll have to hang onto it. The up train's due in forty minutes and I've got to be on hand at the deepo. However, I've got that Davis feller's address and I'll raise him the first thing to send his messages to me and I'll get 'em right down here by the reg'lar telephone. He can use that--what-do-you-call-it?--that code thing, if he's scart of anybody's findin' out what he says. The boss school-marm of all creation couldn't read that gibberish without the book.”